#irrelevant time to do beverly things maybe probably

[scientific-tricorder]

Showing the new season of Picard to a friend, I realized something that kind of bothered me: the characters don't comment on weird stuff, which makes it feel like an aesthetic choice and not plot relevant, even when it is. The two things that I noticed with regards to this are the light pulses and the changelings (the latter of which is relying on outside information as of now).

Having seen "No Win Scenario", I know the significance of the light pulses and that it's very much an unusual, in universe event with plot relevance. The first time we see it (or at least that I noticed in rewatching), in "Seventeen Seconds", is Picard and Beverly Crusher talking in sickbay, after the little scene of Riker & Jack talking. There's a small jolt to the ship, the characters sway, the lights turn up, and the characters completely ignore it, signalling that it's just generic 'ship is damaged' stuff and not important, so the audience can ignore it. The problem is that it's not irrelevant generic 'ship is damaged' stuff - it's set-up. Having Picard or more probably Beverly maybe look around a bit when the lights go up would have shown that it's unusual. Maybe if Beverly had a slightly confused look on her face because she's used to ship damage decreasing light or something, foreshadowing her tracking of the light pulses.

And then we have the appearance of the changelings. Remember, it's not too unusual in Star Trek for small aesthetic, non-diagetic changes to be made to alien designs. They've gone from the DS9 gold goo to more of a flesh slurry, which could very well be one of those small not in-universe changes. But then we have a comment from Terry Matalas that it is plot-relevant. The problem is that I had to conveniently run across this comment outside of the show to know that something actually was up with these changelings. And it would have been so easy to show this! The first time we see it, when the changeling Worf and Raffi are interrogating becomes goo, have Worf say something along the lines of 'that changeling looks funny' to establish that the appearance chance is plot-relevant.

Basically, if you're doing visual plot set-up, cue the audience into the fact that it is plot set-up and that maybe they should be paying attention to it.

[noys-boise]

So tell me about beverly

are you sure you're ready for this? are you absolutely sure?

okay so Beverly Switzler otherwise known as my most beloved special girl who i would commit murder for is a character from the 1976 Howard the duck comic series who then appeared alongside I'm pretty sure every iteration of Howard except the mcu unsurprisingly :/ (and maybe some irrelevant side stuff idk). She is narratively integral to the Howard the duck story. This is undebatable, even in the one htd comic where she's not a recurring character she still appears at one point and that's honestly what i see people talk about most when they talk about the 2016 htd run. that's how important she is.

But I should probably start at the beginning. Warning, Howard the duck lore is weird to say the least.

So Bev's first appearance was in the very first issue of Howard's solo comic series (he did appear in Adventure into fear and Giant-sized Man-thing beforehand but that's a story for another day) and she started off strong with being imprisoned by a financial wizard (also known as a cosmic accountant. I'm not making any of this up, he is as over the top as you'd imagine) but Howard found her inside the wizard's tower built out of credit cards of which he was planning to jump off because idk if i mentioned before this duck was very suicidal at this point. Howard doesn't manage to save her though so instead they both get sent to this? alternate universe? i think? where they have to find a gem key or something. And they bond immediately because turns out a human woman and a duck from another world can have a lot more in common than you'd think. I'm not going to elaborate much more on their escape because this post is already going to be way too long but I'll just say they work really well together and Steve Gerber (the writer of htd) saw that and readers saw that and so Beverly stayed in these comics for the rest of the run except for the two times she got written out, more on that later.

She's incredibly tolerant, honestly to a fault like she just let Howard live with him without any conditions forever as if it's nothing, she's generally really positive which contrasts Howard's negativity well and she's just really damn adorable. She also values her agency more than anything which sucks for her because the narrative doesn't treat her very well on that regard, it is strongly implied that her parents tried to shelter her a lot and she's kind of trying to prove her maturity and she refuses to conform to any societal rules. which explains a lot imo.

Now, like i said the narrative doesn't always treat her very well. Largely because this is the 70s and these comics were written by a man (who i have a love-hate parasocial relationship with despite him being very much dead). Wait first i do have to give him one credit on this, even though Bev originally worked as a nude model she was relatively not that sexualized at all. Which good for feminism, bad for my by now very obvious crush on her. Maybe I am kind of guilty too huh. She has been harassed by creeps more than once (she did also defended herself more than once, good for her) she got kidnapped a lot especially early on and i couldn't be writing this without going into the doctor bong arc which does feature some of the most questionable decisions by Gerber. i need to start a new paragraph for this.

So doctor bong (yes that's the name he uses no it's not a drug reference actually i think I've made a post about this once) is considered Howard's arch nemesis. He wears a bell on his head that can paralyze and allegedly even kill people, he makes weird genetically mutated creatures including Fifi the sexy french maid duck who then dies (i don't want to get into it) he has a past in journalism and he just so happens to have had a crush on Beverly since college. And that's a problem because he's very much an incel. He kidnaps Beverly and threatens to kill Howard if she refuses to marry him. So she agrees reluctantly which results in her being out of the story for the majority of the original run and when she does officially return it's after Gerber has left. now the really questionable part is that my beloathed Steve Gerber actually started to imply that Bev might even be enjoying this arranged marriage which not only directly contradicts most of her previous characterization but is also just generally really not believable. I actually don't want to talk about this more right now because it always gets me worked up.

Seriously though as badly as the narrative tends to treat her she's amazing, and without a doubt the second most iconic Howard the duck character after Howard himself. marvel has actually made a few attempts to replace her for some reason but it never worked for them because why would it.

I could go into more detail about her later iterations because contrary to how i tend to act I'm not actually a Gerber purist, I'm kind of neutral on this argument (wait i think i should elaborate on this. a lot of people believe no one can write Howard the duck after Steve Gerber. Which is a statement i only half agree with. I do believe it's never been the same without him, but I do like some of the Howard stuff not written by him. Hell i even enjoy the movie in its way.) but I'm already drawing this post out too much and I'm going on unrelated side rants and i think i should just stop. Oh wait one more thing. She canonically studied theatre. As in original htd run canon. And she did do a play in the 2007 run. I just felt like that should be mentioned because theatre is my religion.

[cicaklah]

Star Trek Picard 3x04 thots

time for thots again

k so if you're new to my thots on star trek you probably should know that while I love picard as a character it is because he's an arrogant asshole who gets away with too much and deserves to be taken down a peg. Its one of the many, many reasons Sisko is my favourite captain, is that Sisko hates Picard for killing his wife and ruining his life. I like the idea that Picard is a hugely divisive figure in Starfleet and across the Federation because of what happened at Wolf 359 but more importantly, what happened afterwards. I think if the show had been a bit less chaotic that would have been the prestige tv to end all prestige tv, i.e. addressing the complex legacy of Picard the man.

anyway all this ties into my feelings that Shaw is right and should say it. Shaw's story of how he survived Wolf 359 was wonderfully affecting especially countering Picard's personal brand of mythmaking, i.e. he is still a man who cannot deal with not being the hero. Which is exactly what I WANT from my star trek. Picard believes one thing about himself, that he is a humble starfleet captain man who has never done anything wrong in his entire life, who isn't a showboater or a storyteller, while being the exact opposite: he should know that fish and chips shouldn't be eaten cold, yet he abandons his lunch to show off to a bunch of cadets. Was this once? Or was it a frequent occurence?

The twist in the tail that Picard's arrogance and showboating cost him the relationship with his son felt a bit lost, but that might have been on me losing focus. I liked and sympathised with Jack, who would have been, what, 18? Going to go make a great declaration, tracking down his biological father on the encouragement of his mother, and being accidentally cruelly rebuked as irrelevant. And then five years later trying to make a good thing of it, asking about hair loss etc, and picard just showing that he's way too self-involved to actually be able to relate.

Its a pity there's not going to be any real emotional fallout, or even Picard learning a lesson in his old age, because the show, after four episodes of doing a Not Bullshit Plot, has decided to bring in some Bullshit in the last few minutes. Jack is having visions!!!! Son of Picard is SPECIAL!!! Why do the changelings want him...and why did they know that the Titan was going to pick him up?? Either changelings are all through the federation (as implied in one ds9 episode, where a changeling tells Odo that there are dozens if not hundreds of sleeper agents throughout the federation who are never mentioned again), or what, Beverly is a changeling? I think it might be the sleeper agents leftover from the dominion war, but that is one hell of a story to pick up if so.

Idly, I wonder if they've ever asked Ira Steven Behr if he wants to come back and do a legacy show? Not that I necessarily want ds9 season 8, but I do find it odd that they've got none of the original writers back in for these last hurrahs with old writers (not since Bryan Fuller kicked it all off with the original concept for Disco, anyway). Today's episode was fine, but again it felt like a remix of some older episodes. I was sort of excited that maybe the nebula would be that Super Changeling that was mentioned in the beta novels (drink), which dies and basically fractures the link, but thats always too much to hope for. Still, space babies.

Anyway, another thot I had this week was that they have totally fucked up the casting of Jack, since he looks 33, not 23, and TNG onward casting was always to cast younger not older. Its like someone got confused, though I can't fault them, he looks so much like a baby patstew it really was a gift.

misc other thoughts:

captain shaw probably won't make another appearance but I love him, oh captain my asshole captain

who the fuck drinks white wine with fish and chips

oh seven my seven. excited for her and Raffi to be reunited maybe, not that there's going to be any space for them to be happy.

it was lovely to have a star trek breakfast, however I did sort of ruin it by not getting up til midday.

these are my thots on yaoi kthxbye

[iliketheinternetbutimnotfamous]

↳ Teen Titan: I low-key hate Scooter Braun.

Even though I grew up as a die-hard Believer and probably had around thirty posters on my bedroom walls, I never knew much about Scooter. I LOVED Justin Bieber until I attended his first concert in Chilean territories in 2011, and the moment he started singing, I flashed a skeptical yet comical look at my parents and expressed, "This is not how he sounds in his songs" —anyways, what will you say to a seven-year-old regarding playback. Years passed, my taste changed utterly, and my vague knowledge of Scooter Braun became non-existent. I heard some things here and there, and to be fair, before I read Teen Titan, my emotions toward his image were primarily negative. 

But now, I am a 20-year-old who is pursuing a major in Film and frequently wonders if she will end up living comfortably in Beverly Hills with a pair of expensive Pomeranians, walk-in closets or will be returning to her third-world country to be miserable and live off jobs that are not related to the audiovisual field. 

Scooter Braun is a genius, and that's what I was trying to get to. The truth is that profiting off art and entertainment is horrible yet brilliant. But I also firmly believe Braun's luck was present because taking as a reference the business model of Basketball is risky, merely because sports and arts are different and attract publics that really differ from each other. I mean, yeah, we do have the SuperBowl and the FIFA WorldCup, but how often do we see sports fanatics acting like a 2012 Justin Bieber, 2013 One Direction, or 2014 5 Seconds of Summer fangirl trying to get noticed by their faves? That's what I thought. 

What stood out for me the most was Braun's shark mentality. He didn't want to be perceived as a one-hit wonder, and that's fine; I doubt anyone would. But he worked towards it. Hard. He got The Wanted, Rae Jepsen, who might be nearly irrelevant nowadays, but Jesus, they did their thing for a good couple of years. And I know Scooter Braun also worked with stars like Ariana Grande and Demi Lovato, so that wasn't the end for him. The hitmaker mentality worked amazingly for him, and I acknowledge he is —besides maybe a little lucky— an intelligent man who didn't get twisted between loving art and making people love art. 

On the other hand, it is interesting to read an article from 2012, considering that, as of 2024, Braun has retired, and people like Justin Bieber are no longer in his life —sad, to be honest. And as a conspiracy theory, I think retiring and working with HYBE shouldn't have meant drifting away from people I assume held emotionally substantial ties with him. One explanation is money. It is public knowledge that Bieber is one of these artists who have had enough multiple times, presumably from becoming too famous at a young age. Maybe, just maybe, some mixed feelings related to occasional borderline exploitation from Braun pushed Bieber to not remain friends with Braun. I guess we will never know.

[sarah-snook]

Reddie coffee shop au please!!!

Behold! I give you 3+1 coffee shop au with blonde!eddie

hope you enjoy @eddiefuckinkaspbrak :)

Read on AO3

===

i.

The first time Richie lays eyes on Eddie, he’s walking into the campus coffee shop to visit Beverly. He’s never been much of a coffee drinker, but it’s her first day on the job and Richie Tozier is a very supportive friend. (And if his real intention in visiting was purely to get a free cookie out of her, she probably already knew that.) Richie notices him as soon as he walks in, standing by the counter waiting for his drink order. He had blonde curls and waves that seemed to frame his face beautifully and the cutest face to match. Freckles dusted his nose and cheeks and his pink lips looked just downright kissable. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there staring at this strangers face before his eyes locked with his light brown eyes and suddenly he felt like a creep. He began to panic, looking away just as quickly as the eye contact was made, and instead made his way over to where Beverly was standing behind the register.

“Hey pretty lady,” he winks at her as he leans in to the counter. “Fancy seeing you here.” He regrets it as soon as he says it, thinking that the guy would probably think they were together. He’s tempted to look over at him, to see if he’s paying attention to their conversation, but he knows that’ll just make him seem like even more of a creep.

“Hey Rich,” she’s smiling at him knowingly, a look that promised he was going to get an earful later. “What are you doing here?” 

“I missed your face, obviously,” he says almost distractedly. He’s still partially focused on the presence of the guy by the counter next to them, itching to go talk to him. Instead, he attempts to keep up a conversation with Beverly. “How’s your first day of work my love?”

“It’s fine so far but,” she begins as she leans in closer to him to whisper in his ear. “What I’m more interested in talking about right now is you going all googly-eye over that cutie over there.” She smirks as he shushes her, eyes going wide. He’s this close to looking over to check and see if the stranger was listening in, when he hears Beverly’s coworker shout out “Iced coffee for Eddie!” and just like that, his perfect angel’s gone.

“Fuuuuck I should have gone to talk to him,” he whines loudly now that the stranger, named Eddie apparently, is gone. “Bev did you see?? He looked like a fucking angel.”

She rolls her eyes at him, about to speak, when her coworker steps up next to her and interrupts. “If you’re talking about Eddie, he’s here all the time and he’s usually alone. He usually likes to keep to himself in the corner booth.”

“Thanks uh…Ben.” he says as he squints over at the guy’s name tag. “That’s some good intel, I appreciate it.” He smiles gratefully at him, excited at the prospect of getting to see Eddie again. 

“Alright, you gotta go,” Beverly says as she shoves a cookie at him, successfully cutting through his thoughts of Eddie the angel. She gestures towards the door, where a group of girls are beginning to walk in. “Don’t think we’re done talking about your little change in attitude trashmouth! It’s so unlike you to not go up and shamelessly flirt with someone you find attractive.”

“Yeah, but this is different,” he sighs, a dreamy look on his face as he takes a bite out of the cookie.

ii.

The second time he sees Eddie, he’s behind him in line at the coffee shop. He thinks he’s more prepared this time because now that he’s had time to think about what he wants to say to Eddie, all he has to do is just go up to him and turn on that Richie Tozier Charm™ and the rest will be history right? Eddie will fall in love with him and then he’ll have a cute boyfriend who he’ll take out on dates and hold hands and cuddle with and—

Hold on, since when do I think about soft shit like this? 

Usually when he’s trying to charm someone it’s so they’ll go back to his dorm with him, not so they’ll hold his fucking hand. He thinks he’s probably visibly shaken because he gets a quick questioning look from Beverly as Eddie moves up to take his turn ordering. He can’t see his face from his place in line behind him so he can’t be sure, but Eddie must notice the look she gave him because he’s tilting his head slightly like a confused puppy. Even without seeing the expression on his face, he can already tell it’s the cutest fucking thing ever. 

Stop that, you’re here to charm him not to fawn over how cute he is. 

Eddie begins to order and Richie’s stomach does a little flip at the sound of his voice. The quiet, dulcet voice begins to trail off as Beverly eyes him once again. Richie can tell he’s about to turn around and he panics, brain shutting down completely. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s running out the door and all the way back to his dorm room.

iii.

The third time he sees Eddie, he’s had time to come to terms with the fact that Eddie makes him nervous. Like really fucking nervous. Like red cheeks and sweaty palms nervous. The day he ran all the way back to his dorm, he laid down on his bed and just stared at the ceiling, thinking about how stupid he was acting. 

Now here he was, walking into the coffee shop again, hoping that this time he would actually get to at least say hi to Eddie and be graced with what he’s sure is an adorable smile. His heart drops the moment he catches sight of him sitting across from a guy with short red hair. 

He’s smiling at him, eyes bright and smile even more adorable than Richie could have ever imagined. As he watches him laugh at whatever joke the guy could possibly be telling him, his heart feels like it’s shattering into a million pieces. 

I bet I’m a million times funnier than that guy. I could make you smile too.

He stands there, in the middle of the coffee shop and thinks about how foolish he was to think that someone as adorable as Eddie would be single. When Eddie suddenly looks over at him, Richie’s still looking at him and they make eye contact. He gives him a quick, sweet smile before turning his attention back to his boyfriend and Richie’s heart, if at all possible, breaks even more. 

He turns towards Beverly, stationed at her usual place behind the register, and takes a step towards her. He pauses, seeing the sympathetic look on her face, and he suddenly would rather be anywhere else than here in this coffee shop. He takes a step back and then another and then he’s out the door, head hung in defeat. 

+1

The fourth time he sees Eddie, Richie’s rushing into the coffee shop not because he wants to, but because Beverly texted him asking for a huge favor. He had avoided going there for the past week, attempting to heal his broken heart. 

Oh, shut up. Broken heart my ass it’s not that serious. You never even talked to him! And you’ve only seen him three times! 

He rolled his eyes at how idiotic he was acting as he stepped into the coffee shop. He glanced over to the corner, hating that even now he was still searching for the blonde-haired angel. There he was, sitting alone and sipping on some iced coffee. He looked away and over to the register before Eddie could look up and make eye contact with him again. That would only make him feel even worse. 

He lifted the plastic bag, shaking it as he walked over to his friend. She gave him a chorus of thank you’s as she took the bag and walked into the back room of the shop. Taking her place, Ben nodded his head at him and smiled before saying, “So, have you talked to him yet?” 

Richie gave him a look before answering. “No dude, he’s taken. I saw him in here with his boyfriend last week!”

Ben looked at him puzzled, eyebrows furrowed. He looked over at Eddie and then to Richie a couple of times before finally settling on Richie. He has a look of realization as he asks, “Omg so that’s why you—are you talking about Bill?”

“Uhh I guess?” He shrugs at him. “All I know about him is that he has red hair and he makes Eddie’s face light up with the cutest smile.” He sighs, looking down at his shoes and shoulders sagging at the memory of seeing them together.

Ben begins to laugh and his head shoots up to glare at him, only to find him staring at Richie with a huge smile on his face. “Eddie’s single as fuck dude! That guy you saw him with is our friend Bill.” 

Richie’s eyes widen at this revelation. He’s staring at Ben, unable to form words before he’s stuttering out, “W-wait h-hold on you—no. Wait. What?? You’re friends with him?” He’s in panic mode again at the realization that maybe Eddie knew this whole time about his lowkey (highkey, come on Richard don’t kid yourself) crush on him. 

“Yeah, that’s why I know he’s always in here in that corner booth.” He’s still laughing, probably already catching Eddie’s attention. “What, did you think I just remember random people who come in here often and where they prefer to sit?”

“Uhhh yeah! People usually remember regulars.” 

“Are you going to keep standing here arguing about irrelevant shit or are you going to go talk to him?” He questions as he rolls his eyes. “You’ve made him wait long enough.”

“I—” he begins as he looks back at Eddie, surprised to find him staring at him, elbows resting on the table, head in his hands, looking adorable as fuck. “Yeah, I’m gonna go do that now.”

He walks over to him nervously, sitting across from him silently. He’s not sure what to say now that’s he’s here, now that he actually has the chance to speak to him. He’s never been this quiet in his life and as Eddie raises his eyebrow, smirk spreading across his beautiful face, his heart begins to race.

“What took you so long?” He asks, head tilting slightly to the side in his hands as he waits for his response.

Richie’s palms begin to sweat and he begins to laugh nervously. Before he knows it, he begins to ramble. “Sorry you’re just so adorable and it made me nervous and when I tried to talk to you I just panicked and ran and then I saw you and you were with some guy and I just thought of fucking course a literal angel like him would be taken and—listen. I’m not usually this awkward ok? I’m fucking smooth and charming but you just…” He trails off when he hears Eddie laugh, drinking in the way his eyes light up and his cheeks turn slightly pink. 

“Wow, I’ve never been called a literal angel before.” He’s no longer laughing, but his smile is wide and his eyes were still bright.

“Baby, that should be considered a damn crime,” he sighs, shaking his head in disbelief. “You deserve to be worshipped.”

Eddie giggles, fucking giggles, and Richie feels like his soul has left his body and ascended into heaven because nothing has ever sounded more heavenly than this.

This is it. This the moment that I realize I’ve died and gone to heaven. I can die happy now.

Except he can’t. He can’t because he’s sitting in front of the guy he’s been crushing on for weeks, a guy who hasn’t told him to fuck off yet, and he’s yet to ask him out. He takes a quick breath, running his hand nervously through his hair as he says, “So uh, any chance you wanna maybe…go out sometime?”

Eddie smiles sweetly at him, humming in what Richie thinks is agreement but isn’t sure. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me since I overheard your friend ask you why you were making googly eyes at me.”

“Fuuuuck!” he groans out, blush beginning to form at Eddie’s words.

“Hmm maybe, depends on how well the date goes,” he says casually, smirk still intact as he eyes him with a look that’s doing things for Richie. 

In that moment, he realizes that Eddie’s not an angel, but a devil in disguise and it makes his heart beat faster because angel Eddie is adorable, but devil Eddie is radiating confidence and it’s hot as fuck. He’s honestly speechless, staring in awe at Eddie before quickly snapping out of it. 

He’s less nervous now, and it seems as if he’s somehow absorbed Eddie’s confidence because he suddenly finds himself wiggling his eyebrows at the beautiful blonde, playful smile on his lips as he asks, “Are you free tonight?”

[bookstryingtostealyourheart]

Swimming Instructor Richie Tozier

A/N: hey, i got a few requests, and they will hopefully be done today! I have no plans for the day, so go on over to my post on who requests are open for, and let me know who you want me to write for. I am trying to get in a few posts before I leave on vacation. Hope you enjoy, always leave feedback <3 This is kinda short, let me know if you want more Richie. It’s kinda sh*t but I know fluffy richie would still try to act all tough for the boys and be like “shhhh they can’t know i love you” lmaooooo. Next up is a Klaus mikaelson so buckle up my loves. 

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Request: “Cute fluff scenario with Richie Tozier where he teaches his s/o how to swim” @slasher-fanatic 

_______________________________________________________________________

It was not uncommon for Richie and the boys to show up at your house uninvited, actually it was routine for when they dropped by...not that you cared. You and Richie had been a thing since after the Pennywise incident, and even though he doesn’t seem like a soft and lovable boyfriend, he sure does have his lovable moments. 

So when the boys (and bev) showed up to your house, you were pleasantly surprised. “Hey! Y/N, we’re going down to the quarry for a swim, wanna come?” Richie pipes up with a smile, and you almost say yes, but you hesitate. He will laugh in your face when he finds out that you don’t know how to swim, right? Yea, you can’t let him know that. 

You shake your head, giving your boyfriend a little sorry smile. “Sorry Richie, can’t go today, I’ve got plans.” You ruffle his hair slightly and Eddie boos you. the boys have come to like you a lot. It was awkward at first, alike their experiences with Beverly, but they warmed up to you very easily. 

“What? Who could possibly be more interesting than seeing me in my swim suit?” Richie half teases, giving a pouty face. Stan snorts, rolling his eyes at the comment. 

“Swim suit? More like tighty whities.” Stan corrects him and you scrunch up your nose. As much as you’d love to see Richie in his underwear, you weren’t all that comfortable with sitting there and watching them all have fun in the water while you sit there clueless. 

“Hey Richie, can I talk to you?” You ask tugging lightly on his shirt sleeve. He looks down at your hand through his thick glasses and back up to your hopeful and big doey eyes and nods, entering the house with you. The boys stay outside, getting the hint that this was not their conversation. It was a nice sunny day anyways, and they did not want to be locked inside when they could be soaking in the sun. 

“What’s wrong babe?” Richie asks raising an eyebrow. He is still awkward in your house, standing at the front door, hands in his pockets, eyes searching the area he has seen at least ten times before like it is new to him. 

“I don’t know how to swim...” You pipe up and he seems taken aback for a second, eyebrows furrowed before he shrugs half heartedly. He saw no problem with that, maybe if you weren’t so uncomfortable with the fact, he would have cracked a joke. But he can tell you were expecting a different reaction. But then he got a fun idea, his eyes lighting up behind the rims of his glasses. 

“So? Who cares? I’ll teach you.” He says with a goofy grin, making your shoulders come from their sad and slouched position. He was excited to teach you how to swim, as the only times anything like this has happened, it had been you doing the teaching. He got to feel like the one in control, the helpful one. He’d take that job any day of the week. 

“You’d do that?” You ask with a small smile on your face, he scoffs, like you’re the craziest girl in the world, laying an arm around your shoulder as he smirks lightly. 

“Duh, anything to get you in your undies sweetheart.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you outside, where the boys were all sitting around, talking about something irrelevant as they waited. You shook your head at his comment, knowing that he was doing it for more than just to see you in your underwear. whether he admitted it or not, he was a soft guy, and this was gonna be a bonding experience for the both of you. 

_________________________________

Arriving at the quarry, the boys all scurried to the top of the cliff, except Richie, who stayed back with you. “Lets walk down to the water and start there. You’re not like...afraid of water, are you?” He asks stripping down to the same white bottoms that all of the boys were wearing. You shook your head, starting down the trail towards the murky lake water. You heard whoops and cheers as Bev barreled into the water, followed by Billy, Stan, Mike, Ben and finally Eddie. It made you smile, reaching the water and stripping off your shirt and shorts. Richie let out a cat call playfully, and the two of you walked to the water, hand in somewhat sweaty hand. Although Richie had talked about being so experienced, it had taken him a long time into the relationship to even hold your hand, let alone kiss you. He was so very smitten with you though, probably not wanting to mess anything up, or being a little nervous/insecure himself. 

“So you know, this part is the easy part, getting into the water.” Richie says as you approach the water, him leading you in somewhat slowly. The water is not awfully cold, but refreshing enough. There was slight murkiness of the water, but that wasn’t all that important to you. getting up to your hips, Richie stopped and looked at you. “If you want to get out or something, let me know.” He warns and you nod reassuringly. The two of you venture out the little more until you are out to your shoulders. You’re not far from the rest of the gang, so it does not seem all that scary to you. 

“Ok what now. This is probably so simple.” You ask and he shrugs. Everyone knows that when you first learn to swim, the scariest part is actually just doing it. Stopping worrying about the what ifs and just worrying about the actual important stuff, like not going out too far and et cetera. 

“So the most important thing about swimming is being able to tread water. You want to be able to stay afloat when you are over your head. You gotta paddle your feet, move your arms. Don’t go too hard or you’ll tire yourself out. Slow and steady. Don’t stress yourself out. I’ll come over to the guys, and you'll try it. There’s only about two or so feet until we reach them. It won't be all that deep so it is a good start, and anything happens, I’ll come get you. Ok?” He gives you a pat on the shoulder and heads out to the boys. You take a deep breath and try to do as he says, paddle your feet, move your arms slightly. It was a rocky start as you got into where your feet didn’t touch, but the boys backed up a little, wanting you to go a little farther. But when you finally reached them, they all gave you a little cheer. Very supportive in the very least. 

“G-good job Y/N.” Bill complimented with a small smile, the others nodding, Richie held you, so you were not tiring yourself out. 

“I know, my girlfriend is not chicken. I knew you’d get it.” Richie says with a scoff, rubbing your back gently as Stan suggests chicken, saying they could go back to where they could reach and get in a good game. Eddie shivers at first but nods, agreeing but only if he gets to be Stan’s partner. Mike and Ben paired up, Bev and Bill, Eddie and Stan, but Richie pulled you aside. “Wanna practice some more, get you comfortable?” He asked, liking how it felt to be the one who would end up helping you if you needed it. Richie clearly was not the biggest and toughest, so being able to have the chance to be the savior, he’d take it. You nod, sending him out deeper into the water and waving you to come to him. That’s how you spent the last of the day, Richie complimenting you quietly when you made it to him, but flirting with you aloud so the boys could hear it. Things like: Y/N careful with the hands my love, there are others around... when he really wants to say: you’re doing great, best learner I know. And now, you’re probably a better swimmer than him, even though he might not ever admit that....you now swimming as good as you do, has him as a proud boyfriend (which gets him made fun of by the other guys of course). 

[summerbreezeyy]

Love, Huh? - Chapter 2

.

.

"You done?" Sehun said knocking on the bathroom door.

For the last 2 weeks you've been in this hospital, woke up after almost 3 days since you passed out. Sehun cried -which something you haven't seen in a long time and made you cry too realizing how much you actually hurt him by being hurt- when you opened your eyes. And since then you have never been alone even though the boys were currently preparing for their new album. Some days it would be Kyungsoo who would make sure not even a piece of rice was left on your plates and also would sneak in some snacks for you to eat, the rest of the days would be Chanyeol who would show you funny videos or make you listen to songs they've made but yet released. And then Sehun, who would with one of the guys and never came alone. He would only sit silently on the sofa, looking at you somehow with worried, angry, and guilty looks at the same time while his friends would talk with you. He would only say something when talked to. Truth was, he felt guilty for not sensing anything wrong. He was also very mad at himself for not being able to protect you, something he always promised you since you became friends.

They would work on their album in your hospital room while telling you to eat, rest, and sleep. When the day you finally could go home, well to the guys' apartment since you don't really have other place to stay at -and they were very adamant they wouldn’t have it any other way-, Sehun picked you up alone, Kyungsoo and Chanyeol had to record their parts he informed.

You looked at the mirror to see fading marks on your neck, arms, and face. The stitches were also fading, you almost looked normal. Maybe your body was becoming normal, but you haven’t dare to explore your emotions of what happened 2 weeks ago. You could only hope time would help you heal your heart. The guys surprisingly didn’t bombard you with questions right as you woke up. You knew you owe them some explanations and that their heads were full of questions.

You straightened your clothes -well Kyungsoo’s since all of yours were still at your place and his fits the best since the other two are basically giants- and again looked at the mirror. Somehow, looking at your almost healed wounds made your heart wrenched. You questioned yourself, how could you let him do what he did to you? Better one, why would you do things that pushed him to do what he did?

“Hey, you okay in there?” Sehun’s voice outside grew worried when you didn’t respond.

When you opened the door and saw his face, you couldn’t hold yourself to throw yourself into his arms. You hugged him tight putting your ear on heart to hear the sound of it beating, something you realized was something very calming and pleasant. He was stunned at first, before embracing your body, sharing his body and heart’s warmth.

Both of you stayed still in this position with him stroking your hair giving you more comfort before he pulled back and held your face in his palms with you still hugging his waist, needing his presence more than ever before. “You okay?” he said softly, looking deep into you.

You nodded before continuing “I just ... Thank you. For everything.”

“Anything for you, shorty” he smiled kissing the top of your head.

“Hey I was taller than you in middle school. Not my fault you grew up to be a pole.”

.

After some convincing and promises you would leave if he was home and Sehun muttering something like “I hope he’s home so I could show him what broken ribs feel like”, he drove you to your shared apartment with your boyfriend -well ex to be exact- to get your essential items, like your IDs, passport, etc.

Judging by the police line that was still sealed at your door, it did’t look like someone has returned to this house. After getting rid of the tape, you punched in your code with shaking hands, can’t help but to have flashbacks about the nights of your pain. Sehun noticed this and held your other hand in his. And when the door finally opened he took the first step and entered with you behind him. When his eyes spotted the broken glass and trace of dried blood his jaw clenched and his grip tightened.

Concluding no one was really home with the lack of sound and light, he asked where’s your bedroom and lead you both there.

“Um.. Sehun, you probably need to let go of my hand for me so I can work faster.”

He reluctantly did and you took the bag you didn’t finish pack that night. You put in your wallets, laptop, notes, clothes and some stuff you just wanted to bring along. Like hell you were gonna leave your SK-II essence or Anastasia Beverly Hills palette. “You forced me to drive you here just for your skincare and makeup?” Sehun teased with his arms crossed leaning his form to the doorframe.

“These are very expensive alright. Why don’t you make yourself useful and help me find my phone. It should be in the living room somewhere,” you replied while grabbing your huge ass suitcase to fit in more stuff. 

“Just buy a new one.”

“All of my contacts are there. And also tons of pictures I’m not willing to let go of.”

He rolled his eyes and started to move towards the living room. “Like what? Nudes?” 

“I think we both know who likes to take racy pictures out of the two of us.”

“Hey that wasn’t meant for you alright.”

Sehun came back after a few minutes, “Your screen’s broken.”

“Ah dang. Are you busy today? Could we like stop by the mall to fix it or get a new one or something?” You asked looking up while crouching next to the bed, trying to reach whatever was under the bed.

“Free as a bird. You need help?”

“Nope. I.... got it,” you said pulling out a black box.

“Let me guess, your sex toys.”

“Oh honey, if I were into sex toys I wouldn’t just have one box, I’d make a room dedicated to them, Fifty Shades style.”

He snickered and got to his knee, watching you opening up the box. When you did though, he was shocked to see that it was completely filled with money. “Never heard of the bank missy?”

You shrugged, “Just feel safer to have cash than cards.” You put the box in your luggage. Deciding you’ve taken everything you bought with your own money and leaving all he gave you, you closed it. 

“All done?” Sehun grabbed your luggage and your other bag. 

“Yes.” And with that you got up. You were almost out of the door before you remembered something, “Wait!” Sehun looked behind only to see you taking some shoes with you. You grinned at him, showing him a worn out pair of shoes “This is the shoes you bought me with your first paycheck!”

He broke into a huge smile before turning on his heels, telling you to come out fast. Before you close the door to your past, you looked once into what caused you pain and happiness for the last year. 

.

“Have you called the guys about we’re eating out?” you asked Sehun as you finished ordering your food. He nodded at your question. “By the way, this is very private. Is this where celebrities go on dates?”

“Well the owner is also an idol, so he knows how hard it is for us to even just hangout with friends, let alone dating. Well for those who don’t want scandals yes, this is the safest place with private rooms and all.” You nodded at his explanation.

Both of you stayed quiet after that. Sehun looked like he wanted to ask you about everything but always stopped himself before he did. When you finished your food, you took a deep breath and called his name, making him look away from his leftover food he was playing with and looked into your eyes.

“Ask.” you commanded.

Sehun paused before asking “When did you quit Junmyeon hyung’s company?” Okay he’s starting light

“Almost a year ago I think.”

“Why? Was it.. him?” Sehun whispered the last word, clearly trying to avoid the sensitive topic.

“He did ask me to quit. But that wasn’t the main reason.”

“And what was it? I thought working at his company was your dream?”

“Well yes. Kinda irrelevant, but before we move on, the company is not his, it’s Mr. Kim Minseok’s.”

“But they’re brothers, the company is their family’s.”

“Yeah but technically Mr. Kim’s the one who ran the whole company, and on the other hand Mr. Kim deals with the magazine, not their....” you stopped talking as you caught Sehun’s unfazed face, clearly not caring about which Kim brothers was the owner. You sighed and continued, “I just felt uncomfortable with both of them that’s all.”

“What? What did they do?”

“Good things. Too good things. They would bring me food, offer me to lunch and dinner, giving souvenirs whenever they’re back from trips, giving me rides home, and all.”

Sehun’s brow furrowed deeper. “And what’s wrong with that?”

“What would you feel if you CEO sent you a flower bouquet and medicines because you were sick the day before or your supervisor’s boss chatting up to you at lunch like your best friends?”

“Happy?” 

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “Normal people would feel uncomfortable. Cause other employees would talk, okay.”

“Did they? Talk? About you?”

“Oh yes they did.”

“Like what?”

“Like how I slept with both of them to get my job, which we both know isn’t true since you force-introduced me to them 2 months after I got hired. And it’s not like they weren’t professional on working time tho. I get scolded when my job wasn’t satisfactory, but gossip’s definitely more fun than fact so, I decided to quit and to start writing again. And it’s not like I needed more money. As you saw earlier I got enough and my boy.. ex-boyfriend is very rich like I told you.”

“Right, your ex.”

“Ask away, blondie.”

“Was it.. the first time?” he asked carefully.

“No.” You saw him blinked and clenched his jaw. 

“Did he do it.... often?”

“No,” you contemplated on how to tell him, and the only way for it to make sense is to tell from the beginning. “Okay, this is gonna be long. Questions after I’m done kay?” 

“Okay.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before starting your story. “Okay, so did you realized after the initial meeting between you, me, him, Chan and Soo oppa we don’t meet that often?” He nodded “And even when we did meet I asked you not to bring your bandmates cause I ‘wanted to spend more time with you’?” Again he nodded. “And did you notice how he got very touchy and would always keep his hands on me when we hung out?” At this he just looked at you confused. “Guess why.” 

You let him think and analyze the whole thing. It took him a couple of second before he got it. “He was jealous.”

This time you nodded. “When we got home after the first meeting, he was saying things like how all three of you have crushes on me and like me more than just friends, and how we’re too close as friends and stuff. So I argued back and we had a big fight that night which ended up giving me a broken rib and nose. I was ready to leave him. But he begged and apologized. And me being the stupid girl that I am, stayed. His jealousy didn’t get better tho, but he never hit me like that again. But in turn, when he got jealous he would be.. um.. really rough in bed. Like choking, spanking, and not the good kind. If he’s jealous I won’t be able to walk the next day because of the pain and forming bruises. And he got jealous of everything. Our calls, facetime, me talking about any of you, or even just admiring celebrities. But I thought, at least he didn’t hurt me outside of bed you know.”

You looked at Sehun’s red ears and his clenched fists on the table. You reached over and took his left one in your right, squeezing it lightly as if saying ‘But I’m okay now, don’t worry’

"He kinda tolerated you, since he knows how much you mean to me, and also because I told him you're gay, which he didn't believe somehow. So he just forced himself not to be jealous when we hang out or talk. But for Chanyeol and Kyungsoo oppa, honestly I did avoid them. I think I was afraid of what he would do to me if I didn’t. But then the night before it happened, we ran into each other. And I’m pretty sure you all noticed how he got very protective of me since you jokingly said ‘chill dude, we’re not gonna take her’ which, he didn’t find funny by the way, he thought you were mocking him. When we were home, again we fought. And when he got angrier I threatened him I'd leave if he ever laid his hands on me again. So he left. At first I thought I was safe, we were okay. But then the club owner called and informed me that my ex spent the night at the club and was drinking a lot. The owner is a friend, so he called just to make sure everything’s okay. But when he told me my ex has been drinking more than he should, I had a feeling it would go bad. And that’s why I called you. But before you could pick up, he came home. We fought again, but I kept my space. I warned him again and again and again about leaving him. And he seemed to calm down, before my phone rings, and he saw the caller and he snapped.” You stopped, knowing it’s gonna be the hardest part to tell.

Sehun’s eyes doubled in size. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks. It was him who called.

You took both his hands, “And it’s not your fault. Never yours. Don’t you dare blaming yourself okay.”

His lips trembled, but he told himself he had to be strong for you. No matter how terrible this was for him, you still had it the hardest. So he let go of your hands and moved beside you. He looked to your eyes deeply and ask, “Were you scared?”

“Very.” And with that he took you in his arms.

You didn’t realize it, but you found yourself crying and sobbing on his chest. Finally you crumbled down. You felt broken and worthless. Maybe you did deserve all the hitting. Maybe you weren’t good enough for him or anybody.

You cried for few minutes before calming down. You pulled away and he wiped your tears. “You also can’t blame yourself for what happened. This is all him. You are amazing, beautiful, and deserve someone who treats you like the queen you are,” he stated, knowing fully well you were putting yourself down. “Don’t discredit yourself. You’re perfect just like how you are.”

Then he hugged you again, you let yourself be embraced into his grasp, letting him mend your broken heart.

[eddieeatsass]

Stripped Bare - Chapter 2

Summary: Eddie gets an offer from his company to work in Barbados over the summer. Beautiful weather, all expenses paid trip, and a stay in a suite at one of the most highly rated resorts in the world. How could he say no? Unfortunately, Eddie soon realizes there were a lot of reasons to say no. His skin doesn’t take kindly to the harsh sun, his suite ends up being the size of a shoe box, and, oh yeah, it’s also a nudist resort. Pairing: Reddie (side Benverly and Stanlonbrough) Rating: E Warnings: Eventual smut, explicit language

Read on AO3

“So yeah, she’s probably one of the most bad-ass people I’ve ever met.” Bill finished off his story with a thoughtful nod, as if he was lost in his own memories while recalling them. “I would not want to be on the wrong side of Beverly’s fury.” He explained as an after thought.

Eddie had been listening to Bill talk about his best friends for 10 minutes. Technically, they were on the job, but no one had flagged down Eddie yet and he welcomed the distraction from the naked bodies he still hadn’t gotten used to. Plus, it was cute the way Bill’s eyes lit up as he talked about his friends. Eddie secretly hoped he could be on that list one day.

“And then there’s Richie.” Bill started back up, a fond smile accompanying his words.

Eddie leaned against the lifeguard chair that they were both standing under and focused on the way Bill’s lips moved as he talked.

“He’s a huge fucking dork. I love him, but I mean that guy has a bigger comic book collection than anyone I’ve ever met. He also never shuts up, we call him Trashmouth because-”

As Bill continued describing his friend in great detail, Eddie found himself thinking about Stan. He felt kind of guilty that he’d tricked Stan into coming. He’d be arriving later that day and he had no idea what to expect. Eddie had been there for a few days now and, granted, it did get a little easier once you got into the habit of keeping direct eye-contact with everyone you meet, but it still wasn’t comfortable. Stan was going to hate it, was going to hate him.

“Anyway, they should be here soon, you’re gonna love them.”

“W-what?” Eddie stared at Bill dumbfounded. Clearly, he’d missed something important when he zoned out.

Bill just laughed, not taking any offense to Eddie’s spaciness.

“Richie and Bev, I mentioned earlier that they come here every year. I get an employee discount that extends to friends and family, so they usually spend the majority of the summer bothering me while I work.”

“Oh, that actually sounds kind of fun, having your best friends around.”

“It’s fun until the 3rd time Richie pretends to drown just to get me riled up.”

Eddie laughs at that visual, picturing a big dramatic scene ending with Bill stone-faced as he returns to his lifeguard post, now unnecessarily wet. The image is enough to make Eddie completely miss the new presence suddenly behind him.

“I hate you.”

Eddie recognized the monotone drawl immediately. He doesn’t turn around though, is too afraid to face Stan right away. Instead he keeps his gaze trailed on Bill who is flicking his eyes back and forth between Eddie and the face behind him, silently questioning the situation.

“You’re not gonna turn around?” Stan asks.

“Mmm, nope. I like it here.” Eddie responds matter-of-factly, planting his feet a little more firmly in place.

Bill’s confusion finally gets the best of him. He peeks around Eddie’s body slightly, addressing Stan directly as he introduces himself.

“Oh yeah, sorry, Bill this is Stan. Stan, Bill.” Eddie supplies without moving.

“Nice to meet you, I think?” Bill says hesitantly, checking Eddie’s face for confirmation.

“Don’t mind him. He’s just worried I’m gonna be mad that he tricked me into working at an all-you-can-ogle buffet for the summer.” Stan says.

“Are you?” Eddie asks.

Stan sighs, but Eddie could hear the smile when he spoke. “No, I’m not mad. Confused, maybe.”

The second Eddie had confirmation that he could let go of his anxiety, he was whirling around to face Stan and talking at the speed of light.

“Oh thank god because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to survive this summer without you here! I mean this is so weird, right? Like ‘excuse me sir can I have a towel’ oh yeah sure let me just wade through this sea of naked bodies to bring you a towel that you won’t actually use to cover anything up. And this can’t possibly be sanitary, right? How often do these patio chairs get cleaned? And the water, I mean how many people do you think have free-peed in there today alone? AND WHAT ABOUT BONERS!?”

Stan has his hands on Eddie’s arms before he could spiral any further. Stan chances a glance over at Bill and is surprised he’s still standing alongside them. He gives Bill a mental check-mark for being able to deal with Eddie’s neurosis and then turns his attention back to the task at hand.

“We’ll deal with it.” Stan says, his tone surprisingly convincing.

Eddie nods in agreement. “Okay, yeah, we’ll deal with it.” He repeats.

Having gotten that out of his system, and with the new presence of his best friend, Eddie actually sported a real smile for the first time since he’d arrived at the resort.

“Why are you here so early, by the way?” Eddie asks, once he realizes what time it is.

Stan shrugs. “They got me a direct flight.”

Eddie’s jealousy shows in the way his nose crinkles up. He didn’t get a direct flight.

Stan just smiles and opts to change the subject.

“So, our supervisor is hot.”

Bill and Eddie both agree embarrassingly fast, looking at each other afterwards and sharing a laugh.

Stan got a grasp on things considerably faster than Eddie did. A week and a half in and Eddie was still struggling with the environment, years of sexual repression making it hard to normalize it in his mind. Stan, on the other hand, had adopted a rather naturalistic approach.

“Bodies are not inherently sexual, Eddie.”

Eddie huffed out a groan in Stan’s direction. They were in the supply room grabbing towels for guests, Eddie taking a purposefully long time just to avoid going back out there.

“I know that, Stan.” Eddie bit back with no real bite.

“We’re born naked, it’s normal. None of these people are here for sex, just to enjoy their time in the freedom of their body.”

“It’s not normal to see your neighbor, doctor, and teacher’s dick.”

“None of these people are your neighbors, doctors, or teachers. You don’t live here.” Stan challenged.

“You know what I mean!” Eddie rushed in response.

“Try and think of it this way, you’re never going to see these people again. So what if you know what Mr. Fraser’s dick looks like? In a few months it’s just going to be irrelevant information your brain stores away to be forgotten.”

Stan had a point. It’s not like Eddie was going to form any type of meaningful relationships with any of the guests. This was strictly professional, and the same way that you don’t remember every customer’s face, you also won’t remember every customer’s genitals.

“Are you about done folding those towels or do you need another minute?” Stan teased, nodding towards the small stack of towels he’d been folding and refolding to procrastinate for as long as possible.

“Yeah, I guess.” Eddie conceded, tucking the towels under his arm and following Stan out of the room.

They made their way back out to the deck and distributed towels to the guests who had requested them. Just as Eddie had handed the last two towels over to an older couple, he heard a voice calling him over.

A few seats over from where Eddie stood, a hand was waving at him. Being caught off guard, Eddie didn’t have time to concentrate on keeping his head eye level, and boy was that the biggest mistake of his life.

The man in question was unmistakably naked, that much wasn’t surprising given where they were, but what was surprising was that he was hot. So far, Eddie had counted himself lucky that he hadn’t seen any guests that he found particularly appealing, but this guy changed that real fast. He was tall, Eddie could tell even though he was sitting down. He had long limbs that stretched out from his body in an almost lanky way, but it worked for him somehow. He was well defined but not obnoxiously so, and atop his head was an unruly mop of black hair that mimicked the dark happy trail that lead down to…

The biggest cock Eddie had ever seen in his young life.

Well, fuck. If he hadn’t been staring before, he definitely was now. How could someone be so big while flaccid? Eddie almost bypassed being turned on just to admire how impressive that length was.

“Excuse me?” The voice rang through the space again, bringing Eddie’s eyes up to meet the pair gazing towards him. He didn’t look like he’d noticed Eddie staring, but then again, maybe he was just being polite? Oh god, or what if he had noticed and now he was calling Eddie over to tell him off. No, this guy didn’t look like the type to chew Eddie’s head off.

Eddie kind of wanted him to chew his head off... But, in a sexy way.

“Sorry to interrupt your inner monologue, I was just wondering if you could get me something from the bar?”

Eddie’s throat was dry. Something from the bar sounds great right now. He could chug a gallon of water right on the spot and still be dehydrated. He realizes with a start that he still hasn’t said anything since being waved over and the guy was probably starting to wonder if Eddie was mute.

“Yes.”

Okay, great job Eddie. That’s a start. Now just continue with what you say every day.

“What can you get me.”

Nope, that’s not it.

The stranger’s eyebrows shot up, a smirk that had no business being so charming taking over his features.

“I don’t know, what do you want?”

Okay, so the stranger was smoother than Eddie could ever dream to be, but he was also teasing Eddie, and in any other circumstance he’d be peeved. But this wasn’t any other circumstance, and Eddie had to admit it was kind of endearing.

“What can I get you.” Eddie corrected himself, choosing to ignore the man’s last comment.

He chuckles. It’s deep and throaty and Eddie wants to swallow it whole.

“Just a virgin sex on the beach, please.”

“You’re a virgin!?” Eddie blurted out, before his brain could catch up with his mouth.

The stranger seemed to stall for a moment, before his grin grew even wider than before.

“Well, I haven’t had sex on the beach, if that’s what you’re asking. Too much sand getting in too many places.” He played along.

Eddie didn’t want to think about this man’s ‘places’. Eddie wanted to die.

He decided quickly that the only way he would get out of this interaction with at least some of his dignity left intact was if he left as soon as possible. Clearly his mouth couldn’t be trusted, and neither could his eyes, apparently, since they were already wandering back down the man’s body on their own accord.

Eddie forced his eyes to the ground and mumbled a quick “I’ll be right back with your drink.” Which he’s surprised to get out without some sort of slip up. His feet were carrying him away before he even got an answer. He was headed in the wrong direction, not even relatively close to the bar, but he couldn’t get himself to turn back around. Now that he’d put distance between him and the hot stranger, his heart had started beating irregularly fast, and it wasn’t because of a panic attack this time.

Eddie flung the door to the storage room open, startling one of his co-workers who was exiting the room. Eddie gave him a meek smile, a “sorry for almost beheading you with the door” apology. The co-worker, who Eddie wouldn’t be able to name even if he cared to try, just returned the smile and passed by Eddie.

He only waited a few seconds before slamming the door shut behind him and slumping against the surface, face pressed into the hard wood. He groaned audibly as he let the embarrassment finally swallow him whole.

“Poor Jack is going to be traumatized now.”

Eddie just about jumped out of his skin at the sound of another voice near him. He turned around to see Stan leaning against the wall with an amused smirk.

“Who?” Eddie asked.

Stan nodded towards the door. “You threw that door open so violently I thought the poor boy was going to shit his pants.”

Eddie felt bad now, knowing he may have given his co-worker PTDS, post-traumatic door stress. Jack may never be the same.

“So, are you done being dramatic or do you need another minute?” Stan asked.

Eddie walked over to the stack of clean towels neatly folded on the counter, calmly placed his elbows on either side, and proceeded to smother his face in the fresh cotton. He let out the loudest, longest groan he could, letting the sound muffle through the layers beneath him. He kept going until there was no air left in his lungs, and then, taking a deep breath, he lifted his head back up to face Stan.

Stan’s eyebrows were raised as he waited for an answer beyond a groan.

“I saw a cute guy.” Eddie offered.

“Okay.”

“I made an idiot of myself.” He added.

“Mhm.”

“I need you to bring him a virgin sex on the beach, so I can spend the rest of the day wallowing in my misery.”

“Eddie,” Stan sighed. “You can’t just avoid him.”

“I can and I will.” Eddie declared stubbornly.

They had a stare down for a few moments, until Stan finally took pity on his best friend.

“Fine, what does he look like?”

Eddie proceeded to describe the stranger, leaving out the part about his big dick and stunning physique. Once Stan was pretty sure he couldn’t miss him, he left, leaving Eddie alone with the towels and his shame.

  Eddie managed to go three days without seeing hot stranger again. He didn’t see much of anyone, actually. Bill had switched his shifts around with another staff member for a couple of days while his friends got adjusted to being in town. Eddie had yet to meet them, the infamous Richie and Beverly, but he was sure it was only a matter of time. The resort wasn’t that big, after all.

Stan had gotten heat stroke within his first few days of working, so he was on mandatory bed-rest, per Mike’s instructions, until he felt well enough to work again.

This left Eddie working his shift one man down, and alongside employees he hadn’t gotten to know yet. He supposes he could try and be more social, chat up the lifeguard who’d taken Bill’s shifts, but the woman who now sat up on Bill’s lifeguard chair had a look of judgement in her eyes that reminded Eddie too much of his mother. It made his solitude much more enticing.

The day dragged on. Since Eddie was the only pool boy working that day he was constantly running back and forth to fetch things for the guests. He thought he’d finally caught himself a minute of downtime when someone new was waving him over. With a discreet sigh he steeled himself, plastering a customer service smile on his face before he made his way over.

The hand belonged to a girl, probably around Eddie’s age if he had to guess, who was easily stunning enough to be a model. Eddie was as gay as they come but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his few exceptions, and this girl could definitely be one. He didn’t want to fuck her, that would be a bit too much whiplash for his dick, but he did want to spend hours running his fingers through her hair and telling her just how pretty she was.

Speaking of, her hair was the most striking color of crimson he’d ever seen in real life. It was long, falling down her freckled back and ending at the dip in her waist. Despite being completely nude, she had a delicate gold chain around her neck that settled just between her breasts, adorned with a small key. It looked old, worn in, and Eddie found himself starring at it before he realized it probably looked like he was staring at something else in that area. He flushed pink before his eyes flickered back up to meet hers, a daring blue that rivaled the red of her hair but held the same fire.

“Hi! Sorry, I know you’re busy. I was just hoping to get a glass of lemonade when you have a chance?” Her request was accompanied by a warm smile. It made Eddie feel safe. It was an odd feeling, but not unwelcomed.

“Pink or regular?” Eddie asked, only a bit shaken by her politeness in contrast to the other guests he’d served that day.

“Just regular. But no rush!”

She sounded so genuine that Eddie couldn’t help but smile back. Just then, as if to drive home his point, he was being called over by another guest as she rudely snapped her fingers in his direction.

It took about ten minutes before he found the downtime to pick up the lemonade from the bar. He made sure to get the bartender to garnish the glass with a little wedge of lemon and an umbrella. It was silly, and probably too extra for something as simple as a lemonade, but he liked this particular guest and wanted to do something special, even if it came in the form of miniature plastic umbrellas.

He made his way over to the area where he’d last seen the redhead but instead of sitting in the spot she’d been in previously, she’d moved a few chairs over and was now talking to another guest. From their body language, Eddie guessed they didn’t know each other, but they were definitely trying to. The redhead was sitting on the edge of the chair, leaning in to listen intently to whatever the guy was saying.

He was extremely animated as he talked, his face lit up in an endearingly cute manner. He seemed to be a tall guy, but while hot stranger had been tall and lanky, this man was tall and broad, filling out his frame with strong arms and a round belly. He was quite hairy, but not in an off-putting way. Blonde locks eased into neatly trimmed facial hair, a round beard that framed his equally round cheeks perfectly. Eddie knew from a quick glance that he was hairy in other places too, but he didn’t want to be caught staring again, so he forced himself to behave.

Eddie wasn’t sure how to approach the situation, to be honest. He didn’t want to interrupt their conversation, which they were both too engrossed in to notice him awkwardly standing nearby, but the lemonade in his hand was keeping him from getting back to work. Not that he wanted to get back to work, standing around and people watching (see: eavesdropping) was definitely favorable, but he didn’t want to get behind on an already busy day. Just as he was preparing himself to step in, a presence from behind spoke up.

“You better jump in now before she jumps him.”

The voice was right in his ear, it startled Eddie so much he lost his footing as he tried to swivel around to see who was behind the comment. He saw a flash of black hair and dark eyes receding quickly from his vision, and he realized too late that he was falling. He tried to put his hands out behind him to catch himself but was enveloped by water instead. The water quickly filling his lungs burned, his wet clothes weighed him down, the chlorine stung his eyes. He knows how to swim, knows he should be trying to, but he’s too overwhelmed by the suddenness of the situation to think clearly.

Then there were arms circling around him, a strong pressure against his back, and in seconds he’s breaking the surface of the water. The body behind him doesn’t let go, which Eddie is grateful for considering he’s too busy coughing to focus on anything else. He can tell they’re moving but his orientation is all off, he can’t differentiate up from down yet.

He’s being pressed up against the edge of the pool within seconds. His head is still cloudy with water and panic, but the feeling of steady ground against the palms of his hands helps to ground him. He vaguely starts to register that his feet don’t touch the ground of the pool, and the only thing keeping him up is being pinned between the ledge and the stranger behind him.

At that realization, Eddie swiveled his head around, trying desperately to figure out who had been his savior. The face was too close, featured fixating into nothing more than a blurred cyclops from Eddie’s vantage point. He blinked a few times, trying to get the water out of his eyes as if that would make a difference. When he opened his eyes again, the stranger had leaned back as much as he could without letting go of Eddie, and that’s when he realized who had saved him.

Hot stranger. Hot stranger was holding him. Hot stranger was appraising him with a look of worry. Hot stranger was… Shit, he was saying something that Eddie couldn’t hear through the water in his ears.

“What!?” Eddie said, probably a bit too loudly.

Hot stranger chuckled, his smile even more charming up close. When he repeated himself this time, Eddie heard him clearly.

“You really fell for me, didn’t you?”

He was… making a joke? Right now? While Eddie was dripping wet and fighting back mortification and still struggling to get his breathing back under control? What kind of asshole makes a joke before apologizing?

Eddie knew his anger was unwarranted, a by-product of his ever-growing embarrassment, but just because he was self aware didn’t mean he was good at controlling it.

Choosing not to acknowledge the comment, Eddie sent him a glare over his shoulder. He tried wiggling in his spot, searching for leverage to pull himself out of the pool while still wedged between a rock and a hard place. He re-settled his palms on the granite surface beneath him, ready to hoist himself up and out of the pool, when he felt it. The hard place.

Hot stranger was still holding him up from behind, lithe arms circled around Eddie’s torso and chest pressed to his back, crotch rested against the curve of Eddie’s ass. The thing was, hot stranger was still naked. Meaning, Eddie had a cock pressing right up into the backside of his wet uniform, which clung to him much more now than when it was dry.

What happened next isn’t Eddie’s fault. It’s biology, a Pavlovian reaction. Eddie’s gay and right now there was a dick pressing against his ass. That does something to a guy.

“Get off me!” Eddie seethed, grabbing hot stranger hands and removing them from his body. He bobbed down in the water at the sudden loss of support but managed to keep a hand on the edge of the pool which aided him to hoist his body up and roll onto the deck, much less gracefully than he would have liked.

The redheaded lemonade girl from earlier, who had probably been watching the whole show unfold, was offering him her towel. It was a nice gesture, but Eddie couldn’t risk getting caught with a hard-on, especially not while working at a place like this, so without a word he pushed past her, running towards the doors to the storage room.

He didn’t worry about anyone else being in there, threw the doors open and let them shut behind him with a thud as he paced towards the back of the room. He removed his soaked clothing in the process, stripping down to his underwear and grabbing a clean towel when he reached the small hidden alcove.

He wasn’t proud of his next move, screwing his eyes shut before shoving his hand into his briefs unceremoniously. He brought the fresh towel to his face to soak up some of the water as his hand moved rapidly, spurred on by his anger and embarrassment and shame. It didn’t take long for him to release into his fist, his moan muffled by the towel. Once his breathing evened out again and his head was clear, he rid himself of his sullied underwear and wrapped the towel around his waist.

He gathered his discarded clothing, moving slower now, almost lethargic. He threw the garments into one of the empty washing machines, throwing in a few of the used towels that were piling up as well, so he could at least pretend he was still doing work. Then Eddie slid to the floor, hung his head between his knees, and began making a list of all the things he wanted to yell at that stupid, arrogant, unfairly hot stranger.

[skeletonscribbles]

Wishes - Chapter 8

it’s been a minute, hasn’t it? sorry! Bill’s a toughie, and this chapter’s a lot, but it’s done, and it’s here!!

Title: “What’s This?” (Bill)

Rating: G, but like, an angsty G

Summary:  “Proposed new name for the group chat: Santa Tozier and his ho, ho, hoes!”

Warnings: unfavorable portrayal of Flynn Ryder, cryptid Stanley (although that’s less of a warning and more of a celebration of fact)

Read on Ao3!

Tag List:  @roobarrtrashmouth @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @tozier-club@aizeninlefox@stanheartsbill@latinxrichie@softeds@pretzelstoday@melancholypurple@wheezygreens@ayyyymichele @loser-marsh

BILL DENBROUGH - STILL GUEST RELATIONS, MAGIC KINGDOM

currently at the MAGIC KINGDOM CHRISTMAS PARTY AS A GUEST

DECEMBER 15th

7:15 P.M.

“Eds.”

“What.”

“I have a proposition for you.”

“If you make that joke about jingling your balls one more time, Richard –”

“I wasn’t going to do that again this time!” Richie protested, wearing an expression that indicated that he was totally going to do that again this time.

Bill winked, swung his backpack over his shoulder, and opened it, digging around through all of his various pairs of sunglasses and bottles of sunscreen until he found what he was looking for.

“Here.” He tossed Richie the tye-dyed Santa hat he’d picked up at a yard sale when he’d visited back home in early September. He’d grabbed it especially FOR Richie; his friend’s face had popped into his mind the instant he’d laid eyes on the cursed thing. “Some balls to jingle. Or, ball, as it were.”

Richie’s face lit up, and he immediately jammed the hat on to his head. His hair curled out and around it in a way that made him look a little bit like a bush that had been set on fire. “Proposed new name for the group chat: Santa Tozier and his ho, ho, hoes!”

“The group chat will be immediately deleted if you even think that phrase again,” Stan informed him flatly, eyeing the hat with an eyebrow raise that meant that he was either amused or disturbed. Bill couldn’t tell which.

Actually, Bill was having a bit of trouble reading a lot of Stan’s moods. He had way less of a handle on him than he’d imagined he had in the beginning. In retrospect, it was kind of funny how he’d thought they’d all known one another so well right out of the gate. The group dynamic was still good, for the most part, but they all still had a lot to learn about each other, and as such it was clear to everyone at this point that their convergence was hardly the freaky cosmic happenstance that at least Bev had taken it for.

That fact was on all of their minds, Bill was pretty sure - but they were nothing if not a stubborn and persistent bunch, and so they marched along, determined to have fun at this Christmas party.

“We’re getting cocoa and cookies first thing, right?” asked Bev excitedly, bouncing a little as one of the greeters fastened her wristband.

“Are we?” Ben was chewing anxiously on his lip. Bill pretended not to be affected by the nervous energy that was emanating off of his poor friend.

“It’s free,” Mike shrugged, “why not. First treat spot is at Casey’s Corner.”

“And after that? By the way, is everybody in?” Eddie stood up on his tiptoes, trying to see if everyone was accounted for. He looked to Richie, the tallest of their little group, for help, but Richie was still preoccupied with the hat, so he switched over to staring pleadingly at Bill.

“Uh.” Bill counted quickly in his head - he could see Stan with his wristband, Bev, Richie, Eddie, the greeter was finishing putting a band on Ben, and…where was Mike?

“We’re all set.” Mike was behind him. He spoke clearly and stepped forward, clapping a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I was wondering if you thought we should hit up Princess Fairytale Hall after Casey’s? I know that there’s rare characters out and about.”

Eddie stared up at Mike’s face, and then back down at the hand that was still down on his shoulder. Bill crossed his arms over his chest, willing back a snarl. This wasn’t the first time in the last couple of weeks that Mike had been a little extra distant, a little extra touchy with other people. Bill had taken a lot of flack from Beverly in the wake of their relationship about his possessiveness and penchant for jockeying himself into a more dominant position in his interactions with others, so he was trying to be cool, but it wouldn’t last much longer. He was going to snap and ask Mike what the fuck was going on, and it was probably going to happen sooner rather than later.

Bill’s only solace in the fact that Mike’s hand was now making its way down Eddie’s arm was the fact that Richie was blatantly unhappy about it, too. He was hovering behind Eddie in a way that would have been distinctly threatening, if he were anyone but Richie, and his eyes were locked on Mike’s hand with an unearthly sort of intensity.

“Um.” Eddie’s voice brought Bill back to Earth, kind of. His stomach was still kind of twisted up, but it would subside, probably, as long as Mike kept the weird interactions to a minimum. Richie’s gaze, on the other hand, only seemed to grow MORE intense, to the point where Bill was genuinely concerned that Mike was going to be able to feel it if Richie didn’t dial things back soon. “I think Flynn Ryder’s there, if I remember everyone’s schedule correctly. That of interest to anyone?”

“Yes,” Stan said, a little too quickly. Bill crossed his arms tighter and squeezed his eyes shut for a split second.

“Okay, so we can do that, and then maybe head to Ad-Lib?” Ben was still a little pale, but that was irrelevant in the face of the fact that he was also mercifully sane when the rest of them were so clearly not. “I want to hear Richie go through the Jingle Cruise spiel.”

Richie blinked and tore his eyes away from Mike’s hand, which had finally, FINALLY retracted from Eddie’s arm. “I’m flattered, Hanscom, but I’m not on the clock. We can do Jingle, and I’ll probably heckle the shit out of whoever our skip is, but if you want to catch one of my botes you gotta do it on your own time.”

“Still good with me.” Ben smiled weakly, obviously aware of the quiet, crackling tension in the air and wanting desperately to diffuse it. “After that, we can talk about mapping out the rest of our night? The Christmas Wishes show is at 9, and I’d like to try and catch the parade…”

“I love the parade!” Bev was right there with him. “What do you say, boys?”

“All good by me.” Mike was amiable as ever. “Y’all?”

“Y’all? You’re not even from the South, Mikey, what the hell. I’m good for whatever,” Richie said, although once again, his face suggested that he was still apprehensive.

“Same,” agreed Stan, giving Richie a quick, meaningful look. Beside him, Eddie was also nodding.

“Let’s go to PFH, you guys. I know people. We’ll cut the line. It’ll be great.”

“Casey’s first,” Bev insisted. “Sugar cookies. Need it. C’mon.”

She grabbed for Ben’s hand and tugged, and with almost no resistance, Ben stumbled along behind her. That left the rest of them no choice but to try and keep up, which made for a less romantic stroll down Main Street than Bill had been hoping for.

Why was he letting himself get so disappointed by the little things tonight?

“We’ll have time later for you to play tour guide, yaknow.” Richie had slowed down his walk to keep pace with Bill. He seemed to be the only person in tune with Bill’s feelings at the moment, which was absolutely bizarre, given that their relationship over the past three years had mostly been built on brief, comic interactions and a series of mostly work related favors. “Although as ideas go, that one’s not exactly stellar.”

“Why not?” Bill squinted over at Richie, who was looking at the back of Eddie’s neck in front of him with longing in his eyes. “I mean, if you’ve got info about the park, might as well dispense it, no?”

“It makes non-park folks a little antsy sometimes,” Richie responded neatly, looking away from Eddie and between Bill and Stan. Bill grimaced, and swallowed hard.

“Has he said–?”

“No, but I know him.” Richie sped up his walk a little bit, obviously hoping to keep up a little bit better with Eddie. “It’s just a suggestion.”

“Noted,” Bill muttered, watching with no small amount of envy as Richie sidled up to Eddie and slid his huge, clumsy hand into Eddie’s neat little one. Stan and Mike were way too far ahead for Bill to be able to catch up with at this point, and given how the night was going so far, he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to catch up at all.

Bev was already halfway through her serving of sugar cookies by the time Bill entered Casey’s Corner. Ben was beside her, holding a cup of hot cocoa that obviously didn’t belong to him, and he shrugged apologetically as Bill walked towards them.

“Good, Bev?” Bill smiled quietly at her as she worked to swallow the bite of cookie she had in her mouth. His relationship with Bev, at least, was consistent.

“Perfect.” Crumbs sprayed from her mouth as she talked, but Bill and Ben were unfazed. In fact, Ben’s gaze seemed to grow more fond, if that was even possible. (Bill was SO glad they’d found each other. He couldn’t have asked for a better situation for his friend.)

“Seconded!” Richie’s mouth was just straight up full of cookie. Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to swallow before speaking. Bill wasn’t surprised, but he couldn’t help but be a little disappointed, if only because he’d just had cookie crumbs spit in his direction. “They got the good shit this year, not the cheap shit. Hallelujah. If the Snickerdoodles at Harbor House are even half this good, I’m gonna cum in my pants.”

“That all it takes?” Eddie was wearing a small little smile, and his ears were red in a way that suggested that even he couldn’t quite believe the question that had come out of his mouth. Richie turned his head slowly to stare over at him wondrously, like he was a Christmas present that Richie hadn’t expected to get.

“Eds, are you trying to seduce me in a hot dog restaurant?” To anyone else, that would sound like an incredulous joke, but Bill knew that Richie was excited and totally sincere. There was really no place more fitting for a Richie Tozier seduction than a restaurant that sold overpriced phallic foods.

“That depends,” Eddie said, blush spreading to his cheeks, “is it working?”

Bill was hit, suddenly and extremely, with a wave of jealousy that was relatively akin to nausea.

“No fucking way.” Bill pushed his way towards the exit of the restaurant. “You assholes. Gonna be gross and ruin everything.”

Richie yelled something indecipherable back at him (his mouth was obviously full of food again) but Bill was long gone. He exited the doors of the restaurant and stared down Main Street, trying to ignore whatever emotional ache had taken up residence in his bones.

He felt a familiar hand on his shoulder after about a minute and a half. “Bill. What’s up.”

“I’m okay, Stan.” Bill covered Stan’s hand with his own for a quick second, and then pulled away. “Just cranky.”

“Is this something we should talk about later?” Stan asked, obviously taking pains to keep his voice neutral.

Bill pressed his lips into a tight line, and then nodded curtly. “Later.”

“You wanna take a picture with me, Mike, and Flynn when we get to PFH?” Stan continued carefully. It was clear that he had noticed Bill’s behavior when they were making plans earlier.

Bill focused his eyes on Stan’s and took a deep breath. There were wrinkles of concern (or maybe amusement?) around his eyes, and Bill tried to let himself be comforted by Stan’s obvious emotional response, but it wasn’t taking. Sighing, he slid his hands over and across Stan’s shoulders, wondering why he couldn’t get his brain to settle down.

“Yeah,” he finally replied, looking back at Stan’s face. “We can do that.”

“Let Mike work this out,” Stan told him, eyebrows drawn and serious, “okay? He’s never dated white people before. It’s like…an identity crisis for him.”

“Has he been talking to you about this?” Bill asked, caught off guard.

“Let’s go, boys!” The remaining five members of their group were pushing their way out of Casey’s and collectively ignoring the fact that Richie’s hot chocolate was sloshing everywhere, including back on to Richie’s green Goofy Christmas sweater. Eddie was leading the pack, looking more confident than Bill had ever seen him. “Rapunzel awaits!”

Stan took one more long, lingering look at Bill, then turned to go join the group, pulling Bill along with him by the hand. Bill let himself be taken, and put a pin in his questions and feelings for later as they crossed through the castle and into Fantasyland.

Mike slowed his walk and joined Bill and Stan as Pinocchio’s Village Haus came into sight. “Doing okay, babes?”

“We’re good,” Bill responded mechanically, absently letting go of Stan and moving towards Mike so that he could brush cookie crumbs off of his chin. “Flynn Rider?”

“Yeah, Eddie’s really gung-ho about it,” Mike nodded, seemingly not noticing Bill’s robotic response. “I think he’s really proud to show us all where he works and who he works with.”

“He knows I see him there all the time, right?” Bill asked, looking questioningly from Stan to Mike.

Stan shot him a slightly exasperated glance. “Mike really means that he’s proud to show Richie where he works, I think.”

“And the rest of us,” Mike defended. “It’s the first time we’ve done something like this before, all seven. It’s kind of a big deal.”

“Are you guys coming or what?” Eddie called from the beginning of the Princess Fairytale line, bouncing eagerly on the tips of his toes. Beside him, Bev was mirroring his movements, and Ben and Richie were watching both of them with mild trepidation.

“Yes,” Stan said firmly, and the three of them walked single file down and through the doorway of Princess Fairytale Hall. Eddie led with aplomb, and when they reached the character attendant at the head of the line, they were let through without question or issue. They didn’t even have to tell her how many people were in their party. Bill was impressed in spite of himself at how much pull Eddie seemed to have with the entertainment (and entertainment adjacent) cast.

“Rapunzel’s one of my favorites,” Bev admitted, shooting Ben a toothy smile. “I’ve never met Flynn Ryder before.”

“I knew some people who were in charge of putting up the Rapunzel section of New Fantasyland a couple of years ago,” Ben said, smiling back. “They were so mad that their area didn’t have rides or meet and greets or anything. Felt like it was a waste to just make it a bathroom.”

“Best bathrooms in the park, though,” Richie jumped in, “I should know, I’ve tested every single one–”

The female character attendant leaned her head back in. “Rapunzel and Flynn are ready for you now!”

“Are they though,” Stan mused out loud, “are they really?”

“Thanks, Lauren,” Eddie said, touching her arm gratefully. She gave him a sweet, genuine smile, and then disappeared behind the door again. “She’s such a sweetheart, you guys.”

“Are you, like, your whole area’s GBF, or what?” Bill couldn’t help but ask.

“GBF?” Eddie turned towards him, confused.

“Gay best friend,” Bill explained, smiling a little bit at the thought that Eddie Kaspbrak, of all people, had not encountered that acronym before. Behind Eddie, Richie was making a face like Bill had grown an extra head, and Bev was eyeing him with concern as well.

Had he made a mistake…?

Eddie stiffened, and turned back towards the door. “I’m nobody’s GBF, or whatever. You should know better, Denbrough. Let’s go.”

“You’re such an idiot sometimes,” Stan muttered as they shuffled forward, and Bill felt his face grow hot. What had he done? There was really no predicting what Eddie would take offense to, so why was Stan asking him to?

Was he just paranoid…?

Rapunzel and Flynn were waiting for them with open arms when they walked into the elaborately decorated room. Rapunzel swept her eyes over all of them, beaming, but Flynn had locked on a target: Eddie Kaspbrak’s little freckled nose.

Bill shifted so that he was standing closer to Richie. Catastrophe was in the air on all fronts, and Bill didn’t want to take any chances.

“Well hello there, sweetheart,” Flynn grinned, eyes never leaving Eddie’s as he shifted into his trademark smolder. “I think I’ve seen you before, yeah? Wouldn’t forget a face like yours - I bet they even get your nose right on the posters–”

“Hey, dude,” Bill found himself saying, trying to cut things short before Richie could get a word in edgewise, “how’s it going? Hit by any frying pans recently?”

Flynn looked up at Bill, unimpressed. “We’ve moved past that point in our relationship, haven’t we dear?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” and Bill was almost surprised when it was Rapunzel that responded to ‘dear’ instead of Eddie, “I do love using my frying pan, and you’re no saint.” She was looking flintily at Flynn, too - apparently she was also cognizant of whatever situation was brewing.

“I bet he’s terrible, isn’t he?” Richie was done keeping his mouth shut. Bill shoved his hands in his pockets, looked down, and hoped for the best. “Not so much of a fan of the frying pan method myself - luckily, Eddie here is always a saint.” He grabbed Eddie’s hand to punctuate his point. “How do we feel about taking frying pans to people that flirt with other people’s boyfriends, though, because–”

“Let’s just get a picture,” Stan interrupted, moving to stand between Rapunzel and Flynn. “Please.”

The rest of the group acquiesced almost immediately, desperate to keep Richie from cutting in again. The picture was probably going to come out horribly. There was no way that anyone was smiling genuinely.

“You never said you had a boyfriend, Eddie,” Bill heard Flynn whisper lowly as the camera flash went off.

“I definitely did say that,” Eddie hissed back, and then it was over, and they were being waved out.

“Who the fuck was that guy?” Bev asked as soon as everyone was back out and under the warm, hazy lights of Fantasyland.

“His name is Jeremy,” Eddie said, bitter, “and he’s a real tool, but did you really have to go there, Richie? Really? I was handling it.”

Richie opened his arms and tilted his hands so that his palms were angled towards the sky. “Can you blame me? Did you see the way he was looking at you? Total fucking pervlord. How many of the princes are like that?”

“Enough,” Eddie admitted, “but you can’t fucking do that every time someone—I mean, you know that. You know how I feel about–” and he fell silent for a moment, obviously struggling to find the words that he wanted, “about–”

“Yeah.” Richie’s voice had dropped an octave, and for the first time in three years, Bill saw genuine embarrassment in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Eds.”

Eddie’s expression softened, too. “Let’s just go to Harbor House, okay? Snickerdoodles, and then Jungle?”

“I love snickerdoodles!” Mike, ever positive, was visibly desperate to get the outing back on the rails. He edged backwards, clearly ready to walk over to Liberty Square. Bill wanted to touch him; wanted to run his hand over his back assuringly, but felt like he couldn’t, for whatever bizarre reason. Mike was totally out of reach tonight. “I think that’s a great plan.”

“Liberty ho,” Ben called, walking over to the sword in the stone and making a show of trying to pull it out to underscore his command. Bev laughed and immediately went to join him, and soon all seven of them were around and on top of each other, lost in the complete chaos of having seven people trying to extract a single sword from a stone they knew wasn’t going to yield. It was the perfect tension diffuser, and even as he cursed Bev out for slipping and using his hair to catch herself, Bill was grateful. Ben always knew how to get things spinning again.

After a few minutes of their seven person excavation attempt, they piled off of the stone, laughing and stumbling towards Liberty Square (much to the relief of every single Fantasyland cast member).

“We should have taken a picture,” bemoaned Bev, fixing her hair in her phone camera.

“Yeah, that would have been good for Instagram,” Richie joked, “caption it: ‘writhing mass of limbs fails to pull plastic sword from plastic rock’.”

“We’re a cryptid,” Stan realized, expression comedically alight, and with that, Bill couldn’t help but spend the rest of the walk to Liberty Square insisting that they ride Mansion given their new cryptid status. He was shot down, 5-2. (Mike, for the first time all night, was on his side, but to no avail.) Harbor House was a momentary pitstop that was more ‘how many cookies can Richie stuff down his pants without getting kicked out of the restaurant’ than legitimate break, and then it was on through the Adventureland Veranda towards the Jungle.

Every single CP that was working (which was like…6 CPs, they really understaffed the park for parties) at Jungle recoiled when they saw Richie coming.

“What did we do to deserve this?” asked the gangly, gawky kid at Greeter as they approached, peering nervously up at Richie from under the brim of his safari hat. “Thought you were off today, Rich.”

“I can’t believe you’re infamous,” Stan complained, shaking his head vigorously at his roommate.

“I’m not good with kids, Stanny. Sorry,” Richie said, approaching Gangly Limbs. “Anyway, what’s it to you, Noodle? It’s not like I’m working a shift.”

“Yeah, but–” the kid started, stepping forward to try and get Richie to back off, but when Richie didn’t move, the poor kid immediately caved. “Okay. Whatever. Rosa will probably let you commandeer her bote if you ask.”

Richie winced. “Rosa’s spieling? Dude.”

“I know.” The kid shook his head, sighing. “Neil Patrick Harris came through two parties ago and rode Rosa’s bote. It was embarrassing all around.”

“How do I always miss celebrities?” Richie whined at the same time that Stan yelped, “You guys see guests like Neil Patrick Harris?!?”

Bill stepped in with an answer for Stan. “Yeah, MK’s pretty lucky that way. One of my coworkers was assigned to Chris Pratt a week or so ago, and another is going to be the VIP Guide for Chris Evans’ annual trip in like, three days.”

Stan rolled his eyes and tugged agitatedly at a curl. “Park privilege. Ugh.”

“Anyway,” the kid tried again, clearly anxious to have them gone, “go up the Fastpass line, Richie. No one will complain.”

Richie fixed him with a flat look. “I’ve been here for three years, kid. I know what I’m doing.”

“Let’s just go, okay?” Eddie tugged on Richie’s sleeve anxiously. Gawky Kid shot him a grateful smile.

“See you later, Noodle,” Richie waved, still obviously unimpressed. The kid was going to be on the receiving end of Richie roasts and pranks for weeks, Bill was sure.

When their bote came around the corner, Richie informed them unenthusiastically that their tour guide was indeed going to be Rosa, and proceeded to complain about how unfunny she was until Mike unceremoniously cut him off.

“Rich. Why don’t you just jack the mic?”

Richie shifted awkwardly and looked down into the greenish brown water. “Not my place, probably.”

“Why are you embarrassed of this?” Stan, as always, cut right to the chase. “I’ve ridden your bote. Bill’s been on your bote. I think Bev’s been on your bote. Is it Mike? Ben?”

They all knew what Stan was getting at, and most of them had the decency to look away while Richie processed what was actually going on up in his brain. Bill, however, had never been a decent man (not by his own reckoning, anyway), and so he kept his eyes glued to Richie, watching with interest as Richie fastidiously avoided looking at Eddie.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed in front of me, Richie,” Eddie said quietly. “I’m not gonna stop liking you. You know that, right?”

“Getting there,” Richie muttered. “You guys really want a Richie Tozier show?”

“Yes!” The response was instantaneous. All six of them snapped back around, staring at Richie expectantly.

“Well all right then.” Richie smiled softly. It was a small smile, but there was no doubt in Bill’s mind that it was genuine. “Let’s go, then. I’m not gonna give you my usual safetly spiel, but like…don’t slip when you get into the boat. The Richie Tozier express dumps dead weight, so if you fall and hit your head, you’re toast. Gator food.”

“If you truly dumped dead weight, you’d have tossed yourself over a long time ago,” Bev quipped, and the group was immediately back to that safe, happy sword-in-the-stone place. Good. Bill wasn’t sure how many more ups and downs he could stomach over the course of the night.

Rosa surrendered her vehicle immediately once she saw Richie on the dock (he seemed to be a source of great terror for the current crop of CPs), and Richie took up the Skipper mantle neatly and immediately, jumping on board and switching out his tye-dye Santa hat for Rosa’s Jungle Skipper Santa hat. He grabbed the mic with aplomb and started waving it around obnoxiously. “This thing on? Just kidding, it doesn’t have to be, I’m loud as fuck. Sorry, frick,” he apologized, eyeing the coordinator on the side of the dock. “Sit down and be amazed, Benjamin. You’re about to risk your life by being in a vehicle with me to see a bunch of shadowy show scenes because the lighting on this attraction is trash. It’s Christmas themed, though, so it’s at least like…jolly. Fun! Any last words?“

Bill had, of course, been on Richie’s bote probably hundreds of times, so the spiel wasn’t entirely new to him (even if it was Jingle rather than Jungle). That being the case, he chose to spend the bote ride watching his friends.

Ben was absolutely enraptured by Richie. It had obviously been a while since he’d ridden the Jungle Cruise, and to Richie’s delight, that meant that Ben laughed at even the more stale, scripted jokes. Beside him, Bev was giggling less at Richie’s jokes and more at Ben’s earnestness. The two of them were adorable, even if Ben was still looking a little pale and shaky.

Stan was…unreadable, again. He kept his eyes trained on Richie the whole ride, but in such a way that Bill could genuinely not tell whether he was annoyed by Richie’s tirade or proud of him for it. Bill wondered whether both of those options weren’t true. In contrast, Mike wasn’t looking at Richie at all. He was staring off of the side of the bote contemplatively, as if weighing two incredibly difficult decisions. The sight of him made Bill feel inexplicably wary, as if something bad was coming down the pipeline.

Okay, that was definitely just paranoia.

Finally, Eddie….God, the Eddie that had shown up for this party was not an Eddie that Bill had ever seen before. Eddie’s nervous exterior was still very much intact, but there was a really clear and distinct excitement and longing behind his jittery outer shell when he looked at Richie, and it made Bill wonder whether Eddie had ever really felt heckled by Richie in Adventureland at all. There were absolutely no signs of exasperation in Eddie’s face or body, which was absolutely astonishing. He was completely devoted to hearing, seeing, experiencing Richie.

When the ride ended, Bill was more than a little jealous. What was working with Richie and Eddie that wasn’t working with he, Stan, and Mike? What was working with Ben and Bev?

“And as we end our two week trip through however many rivers I just said we trekked through, I just wanted to say,” Richie was finishing, leaning carelessly back against the front of the bote and not breaking eye contact with Eddie, “that you’ve been the cutest group I’ve ever brought through here, and when I say that, I am of course only referring to Eddie. Anyways…I was thinking, nay, planning ahead earlier in the week, and so tell me, folks: if I say, made hotel reservations in Anaheim in July, whaddya say we make a trip, just the seven of us Losers?”

There was a quick, astonished silence as they all processed Richie’s words, and then:

“FUCK yeah!”

“I’ve never been to Disneyland!”

“I’ll see if I can get time off, that would be awesome–”

“You’re a genius, Rich!”

Eddie, for his part, did not respond. Instead, he calmly stood up (despite Richie’s earlier warnings against moving in the bote), pushed his way to the front, and attached his lips firmly to Richie’s.

Bill watched them for thirty whole seconds before it occurred to him to look away or do anything else. Fortunately, he was covered by the fact that Ben was clapping loudly and Bev was wolf-whistling. He joined in with the clapping, feeling strangely embarrassed…not that he had any reason to be. Well, no, he kind of had a reason to be. Now that Richie and Eddie had finally taken that particular plunge (Bill was like, 95% sure that they were witnessing their first official kiss), they didn’t seem to be stopping. People had to yell from the docks to get Richie to pull away and drive the bote back up to unload.

He looked back over at Stan, and found that Stan was looking at Mike with a sweet, tender expression. They were having a moment…and Bill wasn’t a part of it.

When it was time to disembark, Bill jockeyed to be the first one out of the bote, pushing hastily to get himself on to shore. He’d had enough of being jostled by waves he wasn’t prepared for.

If they were going to make it to July, some serious conversation was going to have to happen.

[disappearingground]

Rebound, rediscovery, rebirth: How Jenny Lewis made her best album in more than a decade

Washington Post March 15, 2019

Singer Jenny Lewis’s new album “On the Line” is her best work since her 2006 solo debut, “Rabbit Fur Coat.”

By Allison Stewart

Jenny Lewis has one of those faces. If you were to run into her in her natural habitat — a vintage clothing store or Whole Foods — you might recognize her, even if you’re not sure from where.

Lewis has spent almost her entire life lingering at the edges of everyone’s collective consciousness, first as a child actor, then as indie pop’s mid-’00s queen. “People think they know me personally, or we’re related, or from commercials that I was in as a child,” she says. “I just have a familiar face, because I’m weirdly Zelig-y.”

A few years back, Lewis and her longtime boyfriend, fellow singer-songwriter Johnathan Rice, broke up. It had been the formative, defining relationship of her life so far — they were practically married — and its dissolution forced her to look at the world in a new way, and to reassess the way the world looked at her.

“Can you imagine being 40 years old and thrust upon the digital dating scene after a 12-year relationship that started before cellphones?” Lewis asks. She couldn’t either, until it happened. She’s 43 now, just starting to find her footing, to figure out what she wants in a partner, and what the rest of her life might look like.

Many regular guys are afraid of her, rich guys seem unappealing (“I don’t date for the money. What’s the opposite of that?”), and she’s more famous than most of the artists she knows, which is potentially a problem. She reluctantly attended a JDate speed-dating event once because her godfather wanted her to meet a nice Jewish doctor. “It was way too weird,” she says, but at least no one recognized her.

The breakup and its painful, hopeful, way-too-weird aftermath are among the main subjects of Lewis’s new album “On the Line,” her best work since her 2006 solo debut, “Rabbit Fur Coat.” “It’s kind of like a play,” says Lewis, over lunch at the L.A. Farmers Market, over the hill from her Studio City home. “It begins with the breakup, and it’s rebound, rediscovery, rebirth, death, autonomy.”

In person, Lewis is vulnerable and disarming and warm. She won’t answer every question, but she seems like she’s at least considering it. She wears a mechanic’s jumpsuit and a trucker hat atop her familiar curtain of Marianne Faithfull bangs. She looks like the world’s sultriest gas station attendant.

After her breakup, Lewis moved to New York City. She stayed at her friend St. Vincent’s place in the East Village, and hung out with her girlfriends Erika Forster and Tennessee Thomas at Thomas’s venue, the Deep End Club. (The women formed a trio, played their first show at a Bernie Sanders rally, and released a self-titled album, “Nice as F---,” in 2016. It was probably a one-off.)

Lewis remembers watching a video of Ringo Starr and Harry Nilsson playing on the roof of the Capitol Records building circa 1974, with Ringo wearing a bright blue onesie with a star on the front. She must have watched this video a thousand times back then, because God, she loves Ringo, and she’s also partial to onesies.

During this the time, Lewis had taken to wearing Come to Me oil, an herbal compound she’d bought in a neighborhood potions shop. After acquiring the oil, you’re supposed to set an intention, something you want to happen — “You have to be very careful with it” — and then you wait.

She wasn’t trying to bring forth anyone in particular, she just wanted a good thing to happen; Ringo wound up playing drums on “On the Line” not too long after that. “I feel like I conjured Ringo,” she says. (Note: Maybe! But Don Was, the super-connected super producer who contributed to the album, also might have brought him aboard.)

“On the Line” was made in stages, and features production by Ryan Adams and Beck, working separately. In the days before this interview, Adams was accused of emotionally abusing and harassing female musicians.

Lewis says her relationship with Adams was strictly professional and is reluctant to say much more, but this is basically what happened: Adams began work on Lewis’s last album, 2014’s “The Voyager,” but could not be persuaded to finish. Lewis reenlisted him to produce “On the Line,” hoping things would work out differently. They didn’t.

“We began the record together two years ago, and after five or six days in the studio we stopped working together,” Lewis says, carefully. “I took the record and finished those songs without him, and then went in the studio with Beck to record the rest of the songs.”

It was not an amicable break. “I was left in the lurch, and again this happens to me in my life, where I’m faced with getting back to myself and refocusing,” she says.

The juxtaposition between Adams and Beck, one of rock’s all-time reasonable men, was stark. “There are these figures that come along when I’m engaged in these unhealthy creative relationships,” Lewis says, “and they appear just long enough to say: ‘You can do this on your own. You’re good. I can help you, but it’s yours.’ ”

“On the Line” is slower and more muted than Lewis’s past albums; there are gently swinging retro-country ballads, mostly sad, with an emphasis on pianos and organs, the latter provided by Benmont Tench, former keyboardist for Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Petty died during a break in the sessions, followed weeks later by the death of Lewis’s mother. Lewis had a complicated relationship with her mother, who struggled with heroin addiction and mental illness, and from whom she had been semi-estranged.

Weeks after her mother died, Lewis recorded the album standout “Little White Dove,” a bottom-heavy ballad about her final days. “I’m still afraid of a lot of things, but I don’t know if I’m afraid of dying,” she says. “Having been through that with my mother, that’s not as scary to me as it once was, which I think is a really liberating thing to go through. I’m afraid of cancer, I’m afraid of the archaic medical tools, but I’m not afraid of the other stuff.”

Growing up, Lewis’s home life had been tumultuous. She had worked fairly steadily as a child actress since the age of 3; in a Jell-O commercial, the Shelley Long comedy “Troop Beverly Hills,” the 1989 Fred Savage nerdfest “The Wizard.” She shared the screen with everyone from Angelina Jolie to Lucille Ball. “There was this normalcy on the set, and there was a meal, and the routine of it. Every time I’d start a new project, there would be a new family.”

Lewis’s father wasn’t a presence in her life, but his role was played by a series of reassuring ’80s television dads. “Corbin Bernsen, David Strathairn, Peter Scolari,” Lewis remembers. “These guys that played my dads, they were the best guys.”

Lewis found the same stability in Rilo Kiley, the band she and guitarist Blake Sennett (who was also a child actor, and her future ex-boyfriend), formed in the late-’90s. Bands, like film sets, were a makeshift source of shelter. When Lewis later heard that inmates in women’s prisons formed family units on the inside, she immediately understood — it was kind of like that on tour.

When Lewis recorded “Rabbit Fur Coat” with female backing duo the Watson Twins, things in Rilo Kiley were already rocky. The album, a country-gospel-soul mash-up that she estimates took five days to make, became a cultural sensation that changed the course of her career. At 30, she felt free for the first time. She and the Twins wore matching outfits onstage, and, unlike in Rilo Kiley, nobody yelled at each other. She couldn’t believe how easy it was. Rilo Kiley released one more album before disbanding.

Lewis has always felt that her songs are prophetic somehow, like they knew things that would happen to her before she did. She is still struck by the naivete of many of those early songs, but she wonders if she was setting intentions she didn’t know about. “I’m always surprised by my songs, at either how irrelevant or relevant they feel,” she says. “There’s hidden messages to myself in there. It’s like I’m singing to my future and past self.”

When Lewis was in her 30s, she wrote the “Voyager” track “Just One of the Guys,” a song about a perennial Cool Girl beginning to doubt her life choices (“When I look at myself all I can see / I’m just another lady without a baby”). The song wasn’t a hit, but it was a big deal, and it was accompanied by a buzzy video starring Kristen Stewart, Brie Larson, Tennessee Thomas and Anne Hathaway, a friend from her acting days.

Lewis says the song wasn’t biographical (“My songs aren’t the paper of record. There’s a lot of wiggle room in there”), and isn’t meant to seem sad — just matter of fact. But pop music is short on songs about women confronting their empty uteruses, and it struck a nerve with fans, who still ask her about it.

The further Lewis gets from the track, the closer she feels. She’s “a career girl and a survivalist,” on the road so much she can’t even get a dog. But she’s back living in Studio City now, in the house she lived in with Rice, a green and brown house called Mint Chip. Mint Chip has seen countless late-night jam sessions and dissolute ragers. Mint Chip is a vibe.

But the people Lewis rented it to during her time in New York had a baby there during her absence (they asked her first, it’s fine), and the idea of a baby in Mint Chip seems strangely not awful. At the very least, it’s a means of exorcising the house’s dark breakup juju.

Children aren’t something Lewis needs, or are something she is even sure she wants. But she wonders about them, especially lately, and she feels the weight of other people wondering, too.

“There’s so much anxiety around the subject,” she says, tapping meaningfully at an imaginary watch on her wrist. “This is all I talk about with my girlfriends. There’s biological pressure, there’s this sense that you aren’t a complete person. People kind of look at you weird, like, Auntie Mame-style. It’s not whether I want it or don’t want it, we’ll see where life takes me. My time ain’t up yet.”

[ninety6tears]

Dear Yuletide Writer 2017

ninety6tears | Thanks for checking out my thoughts and prompts! I have a tendency to go on and on in my letters but if you’re excited to be writing any of my requests, please take as much or as little from my ideas that you need.

Basics: The whole spectrum from G-rated gen to explicit PWP is fine. I've got no preference over POV/tense/narrative style, just use whatever comes to you! I love pastiche for lit fandoms but something that feels more off the beaten path of the original style can also be fun.

I love: Angst, pining, subtle UST, first times, or established relationships with some level of conflict to be resolved. Intense friendship stories. Protectiveness in close relationships as well as in those that wouldn't obviously appear to be protective at first. A character or characters experiencing a type of attraction that isn't the status quo for them. Relationships that broke up/had a falling-out, maybe a long time ago, and neither of them ever really got over it. Any kind of amusing/surprising interactions between characters that don't usually get one-on-one time in canon. Characterization that focuses on the nature & nurture of who people have grown to be and the unique ways they take care of or need other characters. Insecurity/hangups over worthiness.  AUs*, whether they interact with our expectations from the original story or tell it in a thoughtfully different way, as a fork-in-the-road or a completely different genre/setting that strikes you as something that would bring some good stuff out of the characters/relationship(s). You are welcome to poke around my AO3 bookmarks or my tumblr or even my goodreads to see what fandoms I'm familiar with if the idea of doing a crossover or fusion* appeals to you (crossovers can get controversial but I say as long as big fandom characters don't take center stage, anything is fair game).            [*I would always love to see fusions etc. with: The Bone Clocks, Harry Potter, It Follows, Old Kingdom, Pacific Rim (though I'm not as into PR as its own fandom, so more of a fusion than a crossover or less focus on its characters would be preferred). I'm rarely picky about AUs, but I'd always like to see college/high school - or the more rare school faculty AU, sci-fi, slavery as a non-kinky theme, sex work as a non-kinky theme (though i wouldn't be offended by shippy hookerfic), historical settings, and good old fork-in-the-road ideas that bring a whole different set of conflicts and emotional moments.]

I can handle: Underage, dubcon, noncon, torture and incest. Character death. Love triangles. Infidelity.

I don't want: Canon divergent fix-it scenarios unless prompted (AUs where the original conflict never happened doesn’t fall into that; I just don’t want “X didn’t die or make that big mistake” as a main premise). Soulbonding/magical soulmate tropes. A/B/O, mpreg, or any body fluid kinks. Highly described sex toys. More than a mention of Alzheimer’s/dementia.

You might look at this meme for a more thorough list of kinks/tropes I'm into, but only bother if you're curious! Dublin Murder Squad Series - Tana French Mick “Scorcher” Kennedy, Richie Curran . I love these two as a ship, as a partnership, and/or as a brief but intense friendship. Scorcher is a bit of a pill especially as he's portrayed in Faithful Place, but part of what I love about this series is Tana’s ability to complicate characters in different lights, and the warmth between these two in Broken Harbour as well as the tragically missed opportunities for Mick to open up to Richie were part of what finally endeared me to the character. I think the first moment in BH when I started to actively like him was when he got protective for Richie’s reputation after he couldn't handle the autopsy.

I'm not sure whether or not Mick and Richie could ever make up especially as they won't be running into each other professionally, but if you're open to the slashy interpretation I could kind of see some angsty reunion where they run into each other and Scorcher is still so bitter but also so isolated and touch-starved that they end up fucking anyway. Or maybe there could be a missing scene with something of a near-kiss or touch, some time while they were working together. I'd also love to get a glimpse into what Richie was thinking about Scorcher just before or throughout BH, since it's hard to imagine him being extremely fond of Scorcher from the very beginning. Any moment from Richie’s perspective throughout BH would be lovely, though, as long as you don't dwell on his encounter with Dina more than its aftermath. I don't have any specific AU prompts, but I always like twists on the detective genre, especially with shippable partners, so if their quick and unexpected friendship is there, or even if it's awkward yet caring, that's what I'd love to get in an AU. Maybe Richie could handle some sf/f equivalent of investigative work a little better, or maybe it would be heartbreaking for him all over again. I’ve requested this series every year in numerous ways, and wouldn't say no to an appearance of Frank, maybe involving Olivia (Liv knows Kennedy well enough to seemingly dislike him, or dislike who Frank is with him, and I’ve always wondered about that). if in doubt about whether I might enjoy anything a bit (or a lot) off the grid of my requests, I'd probably love it. I won't spam you with potentially irrelevant prompts but any character or pairing I talked about in previous years is something I'd still be happy to see. Far From the Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy Bathsheba Everdene, Gabriel Oak . I really love these two as a kind of friends-to-lovers trope in a setting where men and women rarely had opportunities to be 100% friends. Some interpretations reduce Gabriel to the guy that's just pining on the sidelines waiting for her to return his feelings, but I like how the professional relationship forms into a true companionship between confidants aside from his resignation on the possibility. I like that it's never a sweeping passion for Bathsheba but she comes to hold his opinions and his regard for her as singularly important while taking forever to directly reconsider her feelings (even while absently imagining what it would be like to be married to him and considering him her first sweetheart), and that in turn Gabriel doesn't put her on a simplistic pedestal or sugarcoat things for her even as his affection doesn't waver. I like that she's treated as arrogant as a matter of forgivable fact, and that her being loved by him in vain is something she wants selfishly until it's not actually in vain. I love that she's authoritative in order to keep him at a distance but then pines for him to remain significant in her life. Any moment from their working relationship that shows that Gabriel starts to fall even more in love with the real her, despite all reasons against it, would be great; or some moment from Bathsheba’s viewpoint that shows her neighborliness actually becoming a deeper trust...I don't really approach this as a super-steamy ship but feel free to try to convince me there was some UST on a level that Hardy didn't indulge in, or give me something in bed from the honeymoon period if that's your thing (would she have been pleasantly surprised by him, if Troy was not the most considerate partner?). One AU scenario I wondered about: When Bathsheba has that talk with Gabriel (in chapter 51) about whether she should commit herself to Boldwood, and admits to herself after that she’d wanted him to give some indication he'd still be willing to marry her, I wonder how things would have gone around then if their mutual wanting had just slipped out somehow...because wouldn't it be more of a forbidden or at least ill-timed desire, considering Gabriel’s logic of a more dutiful commitment not being a disrespect to her missing husband, and the risk of the two of them driving Boldwood off the deep end? Or what might have happened if Gabriel had overheard the way Boldwood pretty much scared her into promising herself to him at the party? (Hardy handles his ~madness~ with some degree of sympathy, but feel free to treat Boldwood as just a jealous creep if that's your angle, especially since I can't imagine Gabriel being very sympathetic to him at that point.) My one annoyingly lectury fandom-specific do-not-want: Please, please do not imply that Gabriel only reconsiders leaving at the end because of the marriage possibility. In the novel he clearly thinks twice about it just because of how much it upsets Bathsheba, but multiple adaptations screw this up.

It - Stephen King Ben Hanscom, Beverly Marsh

.

You don't have to write both characters or feature them as a pairing (though I do ship them and love to imagine how they might go on together as adults)--I partly picked them because I'm curious about the things that happened to them between the childhood we’re shown and the eighties, from the big events to the smaller moments.

They're obviously both one of the less happier people when they come to being reunited, Beverly just escaping Tom and Ben, for vague reasons, still being quite solitary despite his success. I'm intrigued by Ben as the character who probably changes the most over that time, seemingly becoming this more cynical and self-deprecating man we meet in that intense bar scene but always retaining a kindness towards others, having survived not just the monster he doesn't remember but the severe bullying he continued to endure. I love the determination he's capable of and the fact he decides to lose weight as a “fuck you” to his asshole gym teacher, but I wonder if his self-image remained shaky for a while after and if he had a sense of imposter syndrome as he came of age, probably being treated in a way he wasn’t used to because of his looks and later his talent. That bartender observes that he never seems to pick up any dates, but maybe he tried and it just never felt right because he just wasn't good at feeling close to people, or for some other reason…?

I feel like the description of Bev finally abandoning her father is only briefly referenced, and I'm always curious about that--was there an inciting event that meant her father would know exactly why she left, if there was ever any doubt about that? Was it the sudden decision of a runaway who didn't have an easy place to hole up? I'm also intrigued by Bev apparently being this high-class designer who still lives the better parts of her life in a simple and relatable way: as someone who never got the hang of being popular but has that one true friend in Kay. I like to imagine that with Ben she would still have a glamorous but quiet life, with precious few people who bring out the real her. I’d also like to get to know her as a teenager...In general I love Bev’s combined softness and feistiness and would love to see some of that, maybe her rediscovering it in a way after she’s lost touch with her childhood.

If you want to bring in other characters, I have to say the recent movie was enjoyable but didn't show the talents of the Losers club or their teamwork as well as I'd have liked, so I would adore an AU that brings them into a different conflict as a team. I love them all together as adults (keep in Stan if you want!) in pretty much any AU you can think of (an Inception fusion? members of a school faculty? mundane college friends à la St. Elmo’s Fire or The Big Chill?), but I also love school settings and all the kids together.

You could even give me bits of what's going on with all the Losers over the years following childhood, or in those first months/years they begin drifting apart, with a vague haunted connection between them. I just like being in the company of these characters and their strengths and flaws and loneliness, with the knowledge that that loneliness won't be forever, with maybe a shadow of the past that's both horrifying and hopeful hanging over them, or some vague memories surfacing in times of intense emotions.

There isn’t any pairing among the main seven that I wouldn’t like as long as it doesn’t heavily contradict Ben/Bev as endgame (though Eddie/Richie is super popular and I don’t feel like I’m short on them, but a hint of that would be fine).

The Long Walk - Richard Bachman Peter McVries, Ray Garraty . Oh, this disastrous OTP of mine...I always felt that Ray's cold reaction to Pete popping the handjob question came from being hurt that Pete was basically making light of how close they were by offering what was either a total joke or something that would feel desperate and impersonal (he didn't want him to do it in that way). It's a very paradoxical ship in my mind, because it takes the intensity of the situation for this ruthless love to form between them, but because of their inability to express any of it in this vacuum the only sincere thing is the acknowledgment that any future involving both of them is impossible. If you're only interested in focusing on them as a friendship I would still be very happy, and I'm hardly demanding anything sexual; even though strange things do happen on the walk I would prefer nothing to get physical between them unless it happens outside of that situation. But in my mind Ray absolutely has some self-destructive anxiety about his masculinity/sexuality, and I'd like to see that at least not contradicted if it's not a theme you're going for. Since we're never in Pete's head, it would be great to get anything detailing how his initial distance from Ray quickly erodes into the protectiveness he obviously can't help over him, if there's a spark of empathy there even before the first time Ray saves him, or what he's really thinking or trying to say at some of his more cynical and cryptic moments. I wonder what it was that Parker said to him to imply he thought he and Ray were "queer for each other" and how this apparently was covered without McVries feeling the need to deny it? I'd love an AU in which some revolt or rescue does manage to at least stave off danger for a time - some situation where there's no real hope they won't be found and killed but gives them time to interact outside of the rules, even if much of that amounts to passing out while huddled together, would be a nice bittersweet twist - but if you wanted to write a successful coup actually saving their lives and ending the walk, I would love to see how their relationship remains in the aftermath; maybe Ray ends up staying with his girlfriend and they only meet up every once in a while because they share this traumatizing thing, and they have an essential but troubled friendship (and maybe they end up fucking a couple times but don't really talk about it). In the realm of more absolute alternate universes, I'm eager if it's keeping intact the angst and the masculine insecurity and the very teenage conversations and McVries being such a defeated self-punishing sourpuss that his sweetness towards Ray feels like a small miracle. A bigoted boarding school atmosphere, an aggressive correctional camp, anything where a compulsive make-out might happen in the bunks or the showers and then be stiffly denied later on sounds like a backdrop I'd love for these boys if you want to do something bleak-but-not-as-mortally-bleak. I prefer to think of McVries as having complicated depression that doesn’t just stem from girlfriend probems; I'd prefer you mention the incident with Priscilla as little as possible, but any focus on Pete’s scar is totally fine.

[soonwellbefoundfic]

I know that this will hurt you..

larry.

“Can we just stay here for a few days instead of flying back home?” Her question drew my eyes away from my iPad.

“You wanna stay here – in LA?” I quizzed, shocked.

We hadn’t been home in forever, and I was sure that she missed it but she was proving me wrong.

“You not tired of hotel?” We’d done a hotel in Paris for nearly a week and then two different resorts in Malé.

“I mean,” She shrugged. “Not really. My clothes situation is off since I didn’t really pack when I was in my right mind.”

I thought about the way she’d left New York without me and rolled my eyes.

“But I can always just buy what I need.” She carried us back to the safe zone with her words.

“How long you want us to be here?” I quizzed, okay with the idea.

She shrugged. “Just a few days.”

We were only due to stay in this hotel for a few hours as we’d missed our connecting flight. And while I had slept in many airports I knew Marlee wouldn’t be down to.

“You wanna do different hotel?”

I looked around at the neutral walls and basic stock furniture. This place was close to the airport and convenient. It’s initial purpose was to give us somewhere to rest and recharge after our long and grueling flight but it was morphing into something quite different.

She looked around, eyeing the window that offered a view of the parking lot instead of the scenic LA mountainscape and then the mini fridge that held snacks that were anything but complimentary.

“This is fine.”

My brows hitched. “You sure? I want you to be comfortable.”

“I’m good, Larry. I’m not some pampered princess who needs a suite at the Beverly Wilshire.”

“You not?” I gasped with faux surprise.

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “No.”

“Well,” I moved my iPad to the side, pressing my body to hers. “Then how you fool me and make me think that for all these years?”

Her eyes dropped and a blush consumed her cheeks. “I think you more than a princess.”

“Stop it, I’m getting turned on.” Her declaration deepened my grin.

“Then maybe I say, I think you a queen?” Laughter exploded from her lush lips.

“Stooopp,” She whined even as her eyes darkened. “I wanna go eat something.”

“I wanna eat something too.”

Her ability to leave me insatiable was no surprise. She was magical.

There was no way possible I could ever get enough of her. Her touch, her taste, the feel of her wrapped around me, her blissful facial expressions, the sounds she made…

I shifted, needing to get away from my thoughts. I too was hungry but I would starve in an effort to experience her. She would fill me up in more ways than one.

“Stop,” She breathed as she crawled across the bed and into my lap. Her warmth and weight brought instant comfort.

My hand instantly moved to her bare thigh, stroking upward. I smirked when she shifted and smiled when her flesh grew textured under my touch due to chill bumps.

The way Marlee reacted to me was one of my favorite things. I’d become a master of reading her, having dealt with years of nonverbal signs that she was aroused. Everything from the flare of her nostrils to the twitch of her thighs often told the story of what I did to her.

“Can we go to Larchmont Bungalow?” She quizzed, pulling me away from my thoughts.

I smirked. “You remembers that?”

“Yes,” Her nod was soft and her voice quiet.

“Tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“What else you remember, Chinky?”

“I surprised you here when I found out about Laurent.” The mention of our son made me freeze. My heart ached as I recalled her flying out to personally notify me about our unborn son. My joy had propelled me to perform harder than I ever had with Monster.

“And I met Jay.” She moved on with ease. I’m not sure if she was being strong or sparing me because I was weak.

“Yesssss,” I laughed. “I think you get me fire because you act so crazy.”

“I did not!” She defended herself only it was no use. She’d nearly fainted when she met my boss’ mogul husband for the first time.

I shook my head. “You not remember right.”

“How you gonna tell me?”

“Because, girl with the broke head,” She gasped and lunged for me. “I remember better.” I easily dodged her advance.

“My head ain’t broke enough to not remember how that bird shitted on you on Hollywood Boulevard.” Her laughter closed the sentence and I peered at her, shocked.

She remembered the tiniest moments – things that could easily be written off as irrelevant. Her rediscovery of the past shun a much needed light on things I hadn’t necessarily forgotten but didn’t think of in the current times.

While there were intense shadows and some negativity, her memories were like a beacon of light. Her remembering little things and reminding me only intensified my adoration for her.

“I hate birds.” I mumbled, remembering my brand new Balmain tee that was ruined by the flying rodent.

“They hate you more.” She grinned. “You got shitted on in London too.”

Her cackles sounded and grew louder as I pushed her off of my lap and onto the soft mattress. She rolled onto her side, clutching her stomach as her laughter intensified.

“Is not funny,” I grumbled, even as I chuckled a bit.

I could remember that day like yesterday. We were young and not even dating yet when I revealed to her that London was less than three hours away via train. 

She’d assumed that because it was a different country it was super far. And my twin had no issue condescendingly informing her of the fact that European countries were not ‘stupid and big’ like American states.His rude declaration sparked an immediate argument between the two. 

After listening to Lau’s broken English and her snarky Brooklyn slang for five minutes I grew annoyed and settled things by promising Marlee to take her to the English speaking country.

The following week I did. And as I watched the girl of my dreams coo and take pictures of Big Ben I got shitted on by a malicious pigeon.

“You had on a white shirt too!” She hollered, eyeing me through eyes glazed over with tears.

“And I not have money to buy a new shirt cause I spend it all for this girl I think I like.” I expanded on the story. “Now she laugh at me so bad, I don’t know anymore.”

“If you like me?” She took a deep breath, coming down from her laughter.

My heart pounded rapidly in the confines of my chest as she wiped at her eyes, smiling at me. She was dangerous but I’d known that and still wanted everything to do with her. 

What she did to me was out of this world. She introduced me to the most intimate love. She managed to hold my attention for over ten years even with my short attention span.  

“Yeah,” I answered, distracted by her loving gaze and wide grin. “I maybe change my mind.”

“You looove me,” She sang, making her way back to my lap.

“I think maybe I don’t know.” I softly shrugged.

“Oh you know, nigga!” She playfully snapped, cradling my cheeks in her warm palms as my hands found their way back to her lush thighs.

My gaze locked on hers and my lungs nearly collapsed. Her smiling down at me with joy in her eyes and love in her heart was a sight I never wanted to erase.

She was most beautiful like this. Her face lacked all traces of makeup, her hair was wild and untamed and her skin rich in color from being freshly kissed by the sun. Her eyes were as bright as stars – she was happy, and as I peered at her I silently vowed to make her happy for the rest of my days.

I’d made the same promise before – mutely and verbally but I’d failed. I’d half-assed it and led her to despair. But I’d asked for redemption and because she loved me she granted it to me. I wouldn’t disappoint her – I couldn’t disappoint her.

I knew this was my final chance. She’d given me far too many – ones that she didn’t even remember. I knew that if I fucked up again she would leave me. She would leave me and make another man happy.

The thought burned my flesh and singed my bones. It was the concept of of a man snatching my world up from me. It was the concept of Pierre being that man that really fucked with me.

He, like me, was in total awe of Marlee. I saw it in his eyes when I caught them at Nello’s and heard it in his voice when I spoke to him months ago.

He was gone and it was understandable but completely unacceptable. Though Marlee wasn’t an object to be possessed she was mine and only mine. There was no room for Pierre in our future.

While I was sure that he wouldn’t pose a threat in the future I could admit that he had me every bit of shook when I spoke to him while Marlee was comatose.

He was far too determined to view her as only a friend. He was willing to do anything – to fight for her. It was evident. It was weaved through every word he spoke. He had a rebuttal for my every statement.  He tried to spin me in circles with his proper English. Had the situation not been a serious one I would have laughed at the insulting way he’d attempted to dumb things down to accommodate my foreign brain. He was a funny guy – very full of himself. 

I wanted to be upset as he boldly spoke to me but I realized that my lack-of had given him the bravado he possessed. My absence had left him with an immense amount of space to occupy. I’d fell off and like any other smart man he’d moved in. I understood that but I didn’t accept it – or respect it.

It was when he began speaking not only of my wife but for my wife that I got pissed. He addressed me as an outsider. He acted as though he knew Marlee better than me. He spoke of her with a confidence that made my stomach burn, and twitch, and roll. I’d struggled to hold my temper as he spoke about how miserable Marlee was – with me. And when I couldn’t take it anymore I ended the call with a gruff, 'stay away from my wife’.

Deep down I knew my warning was more of a plea – one I prayed he took heed to.

His feelings for my wife were authentic and had he expressed them to Marlee while she was vulnerable I probably wouldn’t be here with her today. I’d probably be in Paris right now, trying to gather myself post-divorce.

I nearly quivered at the thought. It was a scary one.

It was hard to imagine my future sans my wife. That didn’t seem like a future at all – not a happy one at least. The imagery reeked of misery. Marlee had been in my life for far too long – she was my life. She powered me more than music and dance ever could. She was everything and I couldn’t believe my fears had nearly led to me loosing her.

“Was wrong?” Her warm palm cupped my chin as she directed my gaze to meet hers. “You’re frowning.”

I quickly straightened my face and shrugged. “We need to get dressed.”

Having already showered not too long ago we were clad in only our underwear.

Her will to protest was written all over her face but to my fortune she nodded, stood and headed towards my suitcase.

marlee.

“Why you sound like that?”

“Like what?”

“You sad?” I quickly pondered his question, giving him an answer in the form of a head shake before I could come to an honest conclusion.

I was sad – terribly so but I would never tell him that. I didn’t want him worrying for me. I was fine – I would be fine.

“You look sad.” He pressed and I went to work, schooling my features one by one.

It was too late. He knew me too well.

He’d once told me that my voice changed when I lied – that it became more nasally. Along with that came information about how I flared my nostrils when I was annoyed and chewed my lip when I was in deep thought. He was far too in tune with me but that didn’t stop me from trying to deflect him from the truth.

“I’m tired, that’s all. Today was endless.” I huffed, praying the computer screen would create some sort of distortion to how I was really feeling.

“What you do?” I heard him shift and wondered what he was doing.

I wanted to see him but his faulty wifi connection prohibited that. Every few seconds the poor connection alert came up, leaving me with a blurred of frozen image of him.

I missed him like crazy. It had been nearly two months since I last saw him – touched him – and I hated every second of every day without him.

I was officially that chick. The one who only wanted to be up under her man all day. The one who felt more comfortable only if she knew where he was, who he was with, what he was doing. Hell, even what he was wearing.

I didn’t mind it though. Or at least that’s what I told myself. I would catch myself before it ever got to a point of ridiculousness.

I loved Larry deeply but I had goals and other priorities. My mother always stressed that love was great but it wasn’t everything. She adored Larry but knew that me being in a serious relationship at such a young age could hinder my future. She was right. At one point I’d been so over the long distance thing that I was ready to put my goals on the backburner for the sake of being closer to my man. But he wouldn’t let me. He knew that eventually resentment towards him would blossom in my heart and he didn’t want that.

Hell, I didn’t want that.

Times like this were hard but ultimately we were working to be at a point where we could settle down comfortably together.

“Um,” I chewed my lip, running today’s events through my mind. “I assisted on a Givenchy shoot and visual project. I was there for 15 hours.”

“Damn,” He murmured. “You love it?”

I smiled at the question. “The photography aspect, yeah. The filming was way too fucking repetitive for me. It was a lot. I had fun though.”

His brows furrowed. “You not gonna say details?”

“You care about the details?” I asked through a half smile.

He nodded. “Of course.”

And I went on, rambling about the amazing cameras that were worth more than my yearly income and the lighting tricks I’d learned. He listened, adding a sound in here or there. He laughed when I revealed how a model had tripped over her own feet after doing a twirling take for the millionth time. And his eyes grew narrow with concern when I mentioned that I’d spilled coffee on my hand.

“I was so scared while getting the cameras together. I didn’t want to fuck anything up.”

Confusion consumed his face. “How you can do that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know – put it on the wrong setting or drop the shit.”

“You can never think like that, Chink. You good and you know you kill this shit and even if you scared you go in and fake it and then make it!” His words tugged a smile to my face.

“I don’t know why I sike myself out. I just – can’t believe I’m here. It was such a hard position to get–“

He cut me off. “And you get it cause you deserve and you talented.”

“I was just so shocked because – I don’t know they’ve kinda been treating me like shit,” A frown instantly appeared on his face. “I mean, it’s whats to be expected when interning. The whole time I’ve been here I’ve been the glorified coffee girl. Most times I’m not even able to stand still long enough to watch the work that transpires because I get dragged back and forth a lot.”

I sighed, thinking of the long days that led to limited sleep. I’d come 'home’ to my raggedy hotel with throbbing feet, a pounding head and an aching stomach. Well, it was either aching or empty. Aching because I was so broke that couldn’t exactly afford nutritious food so I ate junk all day, including the leftover sweets from set – never the salad or sandwiches because that stuff was for the real crew. Or empty because, well, I was broke.

I never told Larry any of this. I didn’t want him to worry for me. I was fine – I would be fine. This would be all over in a month or so and I’d leave with a check for the lump sum of my work and great experience – in fetching other folks coffee.

“Half the time I don’t know whether this internship was created to mold an aspiring photographer or to find a fucking barista.” I went on and his frown deepened. “I went in today, knowing I’d have to deal with more of the same and I did but in addition to taking coffee orders I also got to actually touch the cameras and chat with the photographers.” I beamed and a smile crept to his face as well.

“You take picture?”

“Well, no – not for the campaign but I took a lot of test shots to make sure that the lighting and settings were perfect.”

His brows rose as he quizzically peered at me. “That make you happy?”

“It did.” I nodded.

“Then that make me happy.” His declaration widened my smile.

Larry didn’t completely understand all things photography and what it took to break big in the industry but he understood my passion. 

Him being a dancer made his art very tangible. People saw what he could do and reacted. Larry’s skills weren’t based on technical and traditional elements. They weren’t honed in a school. He simply possessed them, and then displayed then, wowing everyone.

Photography was different. It was subjective and even with the proper education many talented artists were still overlooked. And that’s exactly why I was busting my ass as a coffee girl for privileged white folks. I refused to be ignored, to have my work ignored… even if that meant starting at the very bottom.

“I’m still so shocked they asked me, babe! I’ve literally been doing bullshit for weeks! I’ve been the errand girl and finally I got to touch a camera and you wouldn’t believe who approached me and asked me.” I rambled, re-experiencing the same excitement I’d felt earlier.

“Who?” A small smirk tilted his lips as his eyes illuminated with interest.

“Georgia, fucking Steven Klein’s assistant!” I still couldn’t believe it. I mean he was no Patrick Demarchilier or Ellen von Unwerth but he was brilliant with the camera and very successful.

“Wait my baby. I call you back.” Larry spoke quickly, forcing my smile and my excitement to drop.

“Okay.” I murmured sullenly. “Love you.” The call ended, leaving me without a response and an attitude.

With a sigh, I stood from the not so comfortable bed and paced towards the TV stand. My stomach was empty and the only thing I could afford to fill it with was left over donuts from set today. I’d also managed to nab a few bananas and an apple but I was saving those it for tomorrow. 

I was off for the next two days and knew my meals with consist of the finest cuisine from the 7/11 across the street. I needed the fruits to balance out the trash I was bound to consume from the popular chain.

Using the rinky dink microwave, I warmed the Krispy Kream donut for a few seconds before extracting it and taking a huge bite.

It was as I was moving to my second donut that a knock at the door sounded. Annoyed that the cleaning lady was bothering me yet again, despite the fact that I told her I was fine, I moved towards the door.

I pulled the door open, ready and willing to accept the towels, cheap soap and peppermint candy she was bound to offer.

This was our routine. She’d come by at least two or three times, offering things that I already had, I’d refuse, tell her I was fine and she’d go on her way only to come right back. It always took me accepting her gesture to insure that she wouldn’t come back. She was sweet and clearly very nurturing, and usually I would laugh at her antics but tonight wasn’t the night.

However what I got when I opened the door wasn’t a short Mexican lady but a tall French nigga. My eyes widened as he leaned down peppering my lips with kisses.

“I love you too,” He murmured, pulling me into his arms. “Now finish telling me about George and Steve.”

“Why you smiling? What you think of?” He quizzed as I lowered the menu.

“You nosy.” He shrugged and looked at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Stop staring, nigga.”

“Tell me why you smile,” He pressed.

“Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are.”

“All the time.” He shrugged. “I’m waiting.”

With an explosive sigh I crossed my eyes, earning his chuckle. “I remembered when you surprised me here in LA while I was doing that internship at Smashbox Studios.”

The mere mention of the memory brought a wide smile to my face.

After I got over the initial shock of him being there I finished the story of my day. I was sure he was bored and went to move on to the next topic when he declared that he was proud of me. To my surprise, and his, the simple statement brought tears to my eyes. It meant more than I could ever explain hearing that from him – my man.

There I was broke, eating crappy but free food in a half star hotel, in a city where I knew no one and doing an internship that forced me to wait until after completion to be paid. My two hour rides to the studio were by bus, and then train and because everyone drove in LA the public transportation system was severely slower than New York. On top of all that I wasn’t exactly sure if anything would even come from the internship.

I had been miserable but forced myself to remain positive and optimistic. But it was difficult, especially knowing that I could have been back in the comfort of Brooklyn, working and getting immediate money.

Knowing that my man, who I missed dearly, was out there killing it and living his dreams drew me even deeper into depression. Thoughts of him being successful and me failing often plagued my brain, forcing negativity into my lungs. But hearing him say that he was proud of me made everything seem a little bit more worth it.

I could remember so many nights laying on that springy mattress, questioning what the fuck I was doing.  I could remember missing my mom more than anything. That internship had been a big decision – it had the power to make or break my career and I’d done it without her guidance. That was the first real time since she’d died that I truly felt alone.

Those nights where my stomach was growling and feet were throbbing were my some of my loneliest – second only to the nights where I’d clutched my recently vacated belly or imagined the synchronized laughter of Larry and Luzy.

Larry hadn’t been pleased with the hotel, mainly because it was raggedy but also because it was so far away from where I needed to be. He was also pissed about the state of my bank account. He’d gone on and on complaining about me neglecting to tell him the truth. He’d not only been upset but hurt that I didn’t trust him to take care of me.

It had been my tears and whining about going home to Brooklyn that forced him to ease off me but his silence only led to actual moves being made.

My emotional state led to exhaustion, forcing me into a long nap. When I’d woken up it was to a determined Larry packing my bags. In not so many words he let me know that he’d been able to sublet me an apartment closer to Smashbox studios. He left no room for my questions and urged me to get ready so that we could head over. 

The apartment was cozy but open. Sun light drenched the space, making me feel better instantly. It was just what I had been needing.

We didn’t stay for long because soon we were heading to the grocery store to get real food. I’d stocked up on produce and surprised Larry by grabbing mostly green shit to end my undernourishment.

The last stop we’d made had been enough to end my silence. As soon as he pulled the rental car into the bank I began to fuss. We’d argued back and forth for like a half hour before he finally grabbed my purse and exited the car.

The alert that came through my phone minutes later fueled my anger. I stared at the deposit amount in disbelief and said nothing when he got back into the car.

We didn’t speak until that following morning. He had a ton to say about how stubborn and unwilling I was to accept help and to his surprise I agreed, and then cried.

I’d only ever depended on one person to do things for me and that had been my mom. I didn’t know how to accept things from other people though I loved giving. I’d give Larry my left kidney but if he offered me a pint of blood I’d refuse it and claim that it was too much.

The conversation we had was exhausting but I’d promised him that I’d work harder on being as accepting of his help as he was of mine.

The sex we had was even more exhausting and to refuel we’d come here, to the very restaurant we sat in now, Larchmount Bungalow.

“I don’t remember.” He muttered with narrowed eyes.

I gasped. “How don’t you remember?!”

He shrugged as his gaze drifted towards the sky. “I just not.” Was his response. “Tell me what happened?”

“Um,” I paused, chewing my lip as I combed through the details of my recent recollection. “I was staying in some rinky dink hotel in El Segundo and I was superrrr broke.”

“How old we was?” His face scrunched with the most authentic form of confusion.“

"Like, 20…21.” I answered with ease.

“Ooooh yes! I know now. You lie to me and say you good but you eat noodle cups and donuts.” His eyes narrowed accusingly.

“I didn’t want you to worry about me. I would have survived had you not come to save the day, Larry.”

“I always worry for you.” His words weren’t meant to be endearing but they made my heart stutter.

Not knowing exactly how to respond or what to say, I offer a small smile.

“You guys all set?” The perky waiter asked, lingering over the polished wooden table.

“Oh,” I glanced down at my menu. “I’m not quite ready.”

“We ready.” Larry told the waiter, barely sparing me a glance. She do the Red & Blue Velvet Pancakes with extra whip cream and for me,” He hummed, briefly glancing at the menu. “I try the Seafood Breakfast Crepe with half order of Strawberry Tequila French Toast.”

The waiter smiled, collecting both menus. “Will that be all?”

A head nod from Larry sent him on his way and when he was out of ear shot, I cleared my throat forcing my husband to look at me.

“What if I wanted to try something new – different?” He smirked.

“You love the same thing always. I know this.” He was sure. His voice reeked of arrogance.

“I was looking at the LB French Toast.” I told him with an eye roll. I wanted to prove him wrong for the simple fact that he was so stuck on telling me about me.

His face scrunched. “You don’t even like chocolate.”

The saccharine breakfast entree was composed of plantains, Nutella and hazelnuts. “I was gonna get it without.”

“Why you can’t let me be right?” He smiled, knowing I was full of shit.

“Cause,” His brows rose in question. “You think you know everything.”

“About you I do.”

“You only know what I tell you.” I swore. “What I want you to know.”

“I know many shit you don’t even know.” His declaration brought a frown to my face and he instantly exploded with laughter.

“Shut the fuck up.” I murmured before sipping my water.

He was right but at this point I didn’t want to know any of what I didn’t already know. We’d been through too much. I’d experience too many emotions and my feelings were beyond mixed.

I was happy where I was right now with Larry and didn’t want a piece of the past to hinder that. I was accepting of our past and excited for the future but at the same time fear lingered at the root of my every exhale. 

What if I remembered something I couldn’t accept, something that wasn’t as easy to forgive?

I’d imagined all sorts of scenarios. I’d put together all these could'ves and shouldn’t'ves and fished out the ones that would hurt me the most, forcing me to walk away. 

My own imagination drove me to tears weeks ago when I mentally painted a picture of Larry impregnating Luzy.

In addition to killing our marriage something like that happening would have ultimately killed me. But Larry said he hadn’t physically cheated and I believed him – I did.

However, the weight of his emotional cheating left my muscles aching. And while he didn’t create a child with that bitch, he’d created a bond that gave birth to my insecurities, and my heartache.

I cleared my throat attempting to clear my thoughts.

“Stop think so much.” Larry spoke knowingly. He eyed me over the glass as he causally sipped his orange juice.

“I’m trying.” A nod was all I received, as there was nothing much to say.

A comfortable silence consumed us as we waited for our food. When it I arrived I happily dug in, moaning in delight. Larry had been right – this was the only thing on the menu that I wanted. He wore a knowing smirk but said nothing as he enjoyed his own food.

Halfway through my meal I grew bored and reached over, taking some of his.

“I don’t taste the tequila.” I observed chewing slowly on the mango dressed french toast.

“They cook it down so you not can taste.” He chuckled. “Is not for you get drunk. It leave slight flavor… sweetness.”

“Mmmhp.” I replied, unimpressed only for him to laugh.

“You wanna drink – we can go to bar at The W.”

“You just wanna get me drunk and take advantage.” I smirked, already down for the idea. It’d been so long since I’d had a nice cocktail.

“I do.” He confirmed and instead of laughing I shivered.

“Should I order a mimosa now orrrr…?” Our cackles loomed around us only to be cut short by the perky waiter who approached.

“Larry,” I called when we were to ourselves again.

“Hmm?” He quizzed, his mouth full.

“Where’s Millie?” The question had been on my mind for a while but I’d been too ashamed to ask.

In my haste to get away from my husband I’d left my dog without a care. I was the worst dog mom ever!

He chuckled, before swallowing his food and taking a sip of water. “I wonder when you ask. She with her uncle Roy.”

The name made me frown and because he’d probably predicted my distaste he laughed.

“That dusty nigga ain’t her damn uncle.” I snapped, annoyed.

Moving my food around with the tip of my fork I sighed. “Maybe we should go home. I need to get to her and– “

“Chink, she fine.” Larry swore, “Roy take care of her good. He do before.”

“I don’t like him.” I said what I was already known.

“You not even know why.” Larry was unbothered. In fact, a small smile played around his lips. This was a topic that brought him no stress. Knowing that eased my mind a bit but not much.

“Because,” I shrugged.

“You can’t even say a reason.”

“He’s a terrible influence.” I muttered.

“For me?” Larry’s eyes widened and smile dropped. My nod was minimal but it was enough to make him frown. “Baby, I’m a grown man. Every bad decision I do is because of me, never him. I stupid on my own.”

Him admitting that shocked the fuck out of me. Larry almost never admitted to his faults unless you pulled them out of him and even then he resisted.

“Well,” I plucked a chunk of mango off his plate, still searching for the tequila component. “You were one stupid ass nigga.

-

we can’t let our good love die..

[billgsoto]

The Organic Center presents at the United Nation’s Forum on Sustainable Agricultural Development

The Organic Center was invited to give a presentation at the United Nation’s Forum on Sustainable Agricultural Development.  The Forum will focus on the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development, which was adopted by the United Nations in September 2015, and calls on the international community to “End hunger, achieve food security and improved nutrition, and promote sustainable agriculture” by 2030 using 17 Sustainable Development Goals. It commits Governments and other stakeholders, including business, to ensure universal access to safe, nutritious and sufficient food at all times of the year.  The outcomes of the Forum will be summarized as recommendations and will be presented to the 2018 international forum on sustainable agriculture to help inform the discussion at the High-level Political Forum on the Sustainable Development Goals.

Download the The Organic Center’s slides from the United Nations Presentation here

from Blog – The Organic Center http://ift.tt/2tSw3cH

from Grow your own http://ift.tt/2sr0WR1

[ouraidengray4]

Why Ghosting on Someone Is a Totally Acceptable Move

There’s a saying in my family, and by that I mean, there’s a saying that my family absolutely neither invented nor claims to have, but my mom said it that one time and so it totally counts, and that is, "People plan, and God laughs."

We so rarely become the people we think we will, right? Five years ago, I was a struggling actress, engaged to be married, and if you had told me then that five years in the future, I would be an elementary school teacher and single, I probably would have laugh-cried… because somewhere deep down, I knew that’s where my relationship with both my job and my fiancé were invariably headed.

I always envisioned myself as strong and whip-smart, confident, brutally honest—the kind of person who tells it like it is and isn’t afraid of confrontation. The kind of person who tells you if something is unflattering, even if you’ve obviously already spent a lot of money on it and are currently wearing it in a very public place… Look, I still think that jumpsuit is super cute, and I don’t care if it makes me look like a potato.

This potato is wearing a jumpsuit that totally makes it look like a potato. Illustration by the author, Mikayla Park. The kind of person who, after a date that didn’t set off any sparks, just flat-out tells the guy that she isn’t feeling it, instead of refraining from answering texts and avoiding emails and gently fading into the abyss… well, guess what? Most of the time, I’m not her. I’m the potato who never replied to tell you how my day was going.

Ghosting, in fact, sort of represents the larger ways in which I have failed to become that person I always aspired to be, and for that, I am actually wildly relieved. I didn’t even know about ghosting five years ago, when I became single. I was just this clueless 28-year-old who didn’t know anything about dating, because I’d spent my entire adult life in a bad relationship I can’t actually tell you about here, because the last time I did, I got a butthurt email from my ex.

For those of you who are unfamiliar, the term "ghosting" means you aren’t digging someone you went out with once or a few times or whatever, and instead of letting them know that you aren’t digging them, you simply never text them again. I get the hate for ghosting, I do. It feels irresponsible, rude, lazy... the list goes on. Ghosting is supposed to be this real moral issue, like it’s not okay to just disappear after a date, with nary an explanation, causing the other party confusion.

Ghosting was probably really hard in the olden days, amiright? The… milliner’s son or whatever asks you to go on a carriage ride, and if you’re not digging on his vibe, maybe you learn he’s a cat person or doesn’t have a lot of grain in his silo or something, it’s not like you can just never get your hat… re-hatted again. No, you would probably just suck it up and marry him, have 1,000 children, and die a few years later of scarlet fever, because there wasn’t enough grain in his silo to afford a doctor.

I don't trust what's in that drink. Illustration by the author, Mikayla Park. Nowadays, however, if you are single and in your 30s like me, you’re probably on 5,000 dating sites, you’re double-booking yourself left and right, and you’ve stopped saving numbers in your phone, because your Cloud is full and you suspect that saving a bunch of contacts like F*ckboy and Weird Jeff has something to do with it. That’s modern dating, and I think ghosting is a natural byproduct of it, not a sign of callousness or thoughtlessness.

We aren’t beholden to the people we meet once over whiskey sours, thankfully, or we would all be crying over that guy from Tinder who seems really nice and even has a job and a car, but kind of sort of for some reason reminds you of that gross kid from high school and ughhhhh he seems really nice but you JUST CAN’T! And in the end, Are we not responsible for our own feelings? Ghosting should go like this: Person goes out on date. Person texts date the following day: How’s your day going? Person receives no reply. Person shrugs shoulders, perhaps says "bummer" to the mirror. Person goes back to swiping. It just doesn’t seem so complicated to me.

My mom used to tell me (another saying in our family, because my mother said it), "No one is thinking of your feelings; everyone is busy worrying about themselves." So if you were really digging on the person who didn’t text you back and can’t just go back to merrily swiping, go ahead and feel sad if someone ghosts on you… but let it be for your own sake, not because you have expectations of them. My advice, not based on personal experience at all: If someone you felt you really clicked with ghosts, go have a cry, eat a BLT, pop a Xannie, and binge-watch Ghost Adventures.

Your suffering should center around you, not the actions of someone else; suffering should be indulgent. Revel in that sh*t... then let it go, just like you need to let it go if someone doesn’t message you back. For a while there, on OkCupid (yeah, I’ve been single since that was a thing), I routinely failed to respond to messages from a particular gentleman whose face I happened to find unpalatable. One time, he sent another missive, saying: I know you read this. My premium subscription gives me read receipts, so I know you’re ignoring me.

I politely posited in response, Is not the entire premise of paying for read receipts to know when someone is ignoring you, so that you may more efficiently discern whether or not they’re interested?

He replied, Oh good, there you are. How’s your day going?

If you had told me five years ago that my failed acting career would prepare me for being single in my 30s, I would have punched you in the face. But I think how we handle ghosting has to do with how we handle rejection, and being an actor is all about rejection, which is why I think ghosting is maybe also related to the process of being an actor and trying to land a goddamn role.

If you spend a few months going out on 50 auditions, you’ll know what I mean: Try getting dressed up 50 times, making up 50 different excuses to leave work in the middle of the day, rehearsing 50 sets of lines over and over again, overanalyzing 50 different faces judging everything about you, going home, and waiting for 50 phone calls that never come. Do all that, then come back and cry to me about how that dude from Bumble who was definitely not his alleged 6’2″ never messaged you back. You won’t. You’ll be inured to the whole process.

You might also like READ

I know this is going to sound strange, because dating is supposed to be the most personal thing there is, but I actually think it’s the opposite, and so is acting, and this is why I feel the way I do. You want to know why you didn’t get the part? It wasn’t because you weren’t pretty enough, or thin enough, or good enough. It was because you reminded the casting director of a girl who broke his heart in middle school, or the producer has a cousin he really wants in the role instead, or you came in right before lunch and everyone was hangry and not even paying attention to you.

You can’t know someone after two drinks and a walk to your car any better than you can know someone in a five-minute audition. It never has anything to do with you. You don’t need someone’s feedback re: why a date didn’t do it for him; that does nothing for you. Dating, like art, is subjective. That’s why I don’t save numbers in my phone anymore, and I don’t mind when someone ghosts on me, and I’m definitely not going to read the comments section of this article; I just put my sh*t out there and then I let it go. I’m not sure if that sounds bitter, but to me, it feels like something gentler; the world works the way it works, some people will like my stuff, some people won’t. Unless the bearer of opinions is a cherished friend who’s telling you Yes, Mikayla, you really do look like a goddamn potato in that jumpsuit, the reasons people find to not dig you are irrelevant.

The spoons can say whatever they want, that jumpsuit is still excellent. Illustration by the author, Mikayla Park.

Dating is like trying flavors at Baskin Robbins and then just tossing those little spoons in the trash when you’re done, except it’s way less fun and more arduous, and sometimes a spoon climbs out of the trash and sends you a very long email about how inaccurate that satirical essay you published about your relationship was and how honest and kind he had always been to you and how he sincerely hopes you find peace with yourself someday.

If there’s any rule for ghosting, I think it might be this: If someone becomes sort of difficult to ghost on, as in, you are living with them or you share a dog with them or whatever, then maybe it’s no longer appropriate to incorporate ghosting as a means of escape. Otherwise, ghost away, even if just for efficiency’s sake. Your time is precious!

I would have loved to have ghosted on my ex, but the apartment lease was in my name. Of course, I really can’t talk about that.

Mikayla Park is a teacher/nonprofit creative person residing in the slums of Beverly Hills. Find her, and her two charming rescue dogs, everywhere at @mikaylapark.

from Greatist RSS http://ift.tt/2iY2bTq Why Ghosting on Someone Is a Totally Acceptable Move Greatist RSS from HEALTH BUZZ http://ift.tt/2jjbUHz

[crvsher-blog1]

        STARTER CALL!  one i will actually make good on. i promise. xo.

[stansbooty]

the pain of parting ways // reddie

summary: When sometimes love isn't enough to keep someone around.

warnings: none really but there’s like only two lines of dialogue in this 

words: 2145

ao3 link

The saddest parting of ways is when nothing happens. There’s no big fight, there’s no person coming between them and tearing them apart, there’s no moving away, there’s just…fading. Where there was once hushed secrets and shared jokes, there’s only memories, random facts about the other person that will forever stay crammed in the back of your mind. Old belongings that burn a hole in a desk drawer, never to be returned. Little things here and there will pop up with connections to the person, but it’s no longer simple enough to send a picture and say, “hey this reminds me of you”.

Richie Tozier remembered that Eddie Kaspbrak’s favorite color was red. His favorite flavor of ice cream was strawberry (and he liked the little chunks of the fruit in it). He couldn’t sleep with socks and he needed to sleep on the side of his bed closest to the wall. Eddie snorted when he laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe and his favorite movie was The Goonies. His dream was to travel the world but he would settle for getting out of Derry.

But most of all, Richie Tozier remembered the way Eddie Kaspbrak made him feel. The way the shorter boy short circuited his brain and the only words that could come out of his mouth were crude jokes. Sometimes, Richie would look to his side when Eddie sat next to him and his eyes would flicker across the boy’s soft features, freckles littering his nose and gold sparkling in his eyes. But when Eddie turned to him, his cheeks would turn bright red and he would spit out smart remarks, his fiery temper getting the best of him, and it made Richie swoon.

Richie would swing his arm around Eddie’s shoulder just to feel a bit of the warmth from the boy’s body and he would pinch his sides, just to know how they felt beneath his fingers. Their friends never thought anything of it, it was just Richie being Richie, but eventually Bev caught on. After all, best friends couldn’t keep anything from each other.

Bev could see the happiness that shown in Richie’s eyes whenever Eddie walked into a room and the way his fingers tapped nervously on his thigh when he sat close to him. She noticed his body perking up ever so slightly when Eddie’s name was mentioned and the fact that he would always volunteer to go on errands with him.

But now, Richie sat in the cafeteria on a warm May day in his senior year, only weeks before graduation, Stan and Mike on one side of him and Bill on the other (Beverly and Ben were probably making out somewhere). His eyes never left Eddie, who sat on the opposite side of the room, table full of people who were strangers to Richie. People who they didn’t grow up with and didn’t know that Eddie poured his milk first and then his cereal like a heathen.

Eddie looked beautiful as ever, in a light-colored tee shirt that brought out his eyes and colorful shoes that matched his personality. His hair had grown out a bit, soft curls brushing his ears. He laughed at something someone said and reasonably Richie knew he couldn’t hear him, but the sound of his laughter rang through his ears anyways.

Richie doesn’t remember when Eddie stopped speaking to him. They weren’t in classes together this year but they didn’t have classes together freshman year either, so that couldn’t be it. Richie wasn’t very obvious with his feelings (Bev said he did a good job hiding them) and he never confessed, so Eddie couldn’t be creeped out with him. The other losers said that they didn’t have any sort of confrontation with him and it left Richie perplexed. That out of the blue, Eddie started showing up to the quarry less and less. He was busy more and more on the weekends and would occasionally ignore Richie in the halls. Eddie still spoke to them, but he seemed distant, leaving the conversation quickly to run after someone he saw pass by or suddenly remembering something he needed to do.

Richie remembered showing up randomly at Bev’s house one day after it had been nearly three weeks since Eddie spoke to him and despite Ben being there as well, he laid down on her bed and sobbed. Deep, convulsing sobs that made it hard for him to breathe and soaked Beverly’s sheets. Her and Ben sat on either side of him, Bev holding him close and Ben running his hands through his hair in an attempt to comfort him. He cried out, asking over and over again what he could’ve possibly done wrong to make Eddie, his Eddie, who he had been friends with since kindergarten, hate him. To make him get up and leave.

Ben and Beverly tried to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That any one of them could’ve done something wrong. Or maybe nothing was wrong at all and people just drift apart. At the latter statement, Richie just cried more. All this time he was thinking that something had happened to cause this but he couldn’t fathom that nothing happened. That this was just the way fate meant for his life to play out. Was the world really so cruel as to tear them apart after everything they’d be through together? Did trust and love and loyalty and happiness mean nothing to the world? Or did it mean nothing to Eddie? Was it Eddie who decided he’d had enough, that he didn’t want to be around anymore?

After that day, Richie threw himself into his school work. Not in an unhealthy way, but the time he used to spent sitting around thinking “what if?” were now dedicating to studying, trying to get into a good school so he could leave the little town he’d grown to hate. Beverly let him come over once a month to purge his feelings, cry and eat ice cream while watching shitty movies. Maybe it wasn’t healthy, but it helped him cope, it helped him live.

So now Richie sat, only weeks away from graduation, deposit already sent in to UCLA where he’d be rooming with Ben and Beverly. He stared at Eddie from across the room and wondered what the boy’s plans were. They made a promise once, on a late night in their sophomore year, to escape Derry by going to school in California, but Richie wondered if he remembered. Richie wondered if Eddie remembered anything about them in the way Richie remembered everything about him. Whether or not Eddie remembered was irrelevant to Richie, because he never once broke a promise. He was going to go to California with or without Eddie.

When graduation came along, Richie and his friends went to Richie’s basement and got wasted. The liquid poured passed their lips in waves, filling their minds with clouds that made them forget every misfortune they’d ever dealt with. Richie didn’t cry about Eddie, but, oh, did he talk about him. Richie turned into a poet, describing Eddie’s eyes with the most precise details and talking about how he didn’t know it was possible for one person to make another feel so alive by simply existing. And how one person could take another’s heart and shatter it without saying a word.

The losers didn’t say anything during this, just let Richie stand up on the couch and speak, gallivanting his arms everywhere, eyes glassy but tears never spilling. He drank as he spoke and slurred some words and the others lost count of the amount of times he said the word “love”. He loved the way Eddie didn’t take his shit, he loved the way Eddie knew random facts, he loved the way Eddie picked on the hem of his shirt when he was nervous, he loved Eddie. The others didn’t respond, but when Richie saw their looks of pity, his mood changed to hate, hate, hate.

He hated the way that Eddie just got up and left, he hated the way Eddie didn’t even give him a second glance, he hated the way that he couldn’t forget all the little things he knew about Eddie, but most of all, he hated the way that he would never be able to tell Eddie that he loved him.

Richie ended up passing out on the couch, Eddie’s name still threatening to spill pass his lips, not quite in a sob but with more emotion than just being spoken. The others exchanged knowing looks and took the bottle from Richie, tucking him under a blanket, and going upstairs.

The summer went on like their senior year did. With them loving and supporting each other, but this time each hug was a little longer as the day they were to separate came closer and closer. Richie remembered that what he rambled on about that night but he was grateful that his friends never brought it up again. He continued to have his monthly crying sessions with Bev and briefly wondering when they would stop, considering he would be living with her after the summer ended.

On the day of the last crying session before the big move, he showed up to Beverly’s room to see not Beverly, Ben, or Stan (who had started to show up), but Eddie, sitting on her bed, legs curled up against his chest.

Richie remembered when he was younger he fell out of a tree and got the wind knocked out of him. He couldn’t breathe, not even to cry, and he felt panicked and scared. The emotion he felt when he saw Eddie was that times a hundred.

“Richie…” Eddie breathed out and Richie screamed.

He picked up the nearest thing to him, which happened to be an opened water bottle and threw it against the wall nearest to him, water splashing. Eddie didn’t flinch.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to college in Florida.”

Ringing started playing in Richie’s ears and he was sure Eddie was speaking but he couldn’t hear a word as tears streamed down his face and the entirety of the last year played through his mind. Then the entirety of his life played in his mind. The promises he made with Eddie and the secrets they shared and the love he felt and he thought about how he felt nothing but pain at the moment.

Richie turned around on his heel and walked out of the house, Eddie yelling behind him.

Maybe he wasn’t ever in love with Eddie, or maybe he was in love with Eddie before and he was just holding onto those memories like he could keep his Eds alive. But when the word Florida was spoken in the room, Richie realized that his Eds was gone and wouldn’t come back. That he didn’t know why Eddie left and he may never know. All he knew was that where Eds laid, Edward Kaspbrak stood and he was a man that Richie didn’t know.

He was a man that Richie had romanticized the shit out of and cried over and spent so much of his senior year thinking about. He had looked at every picture with the boy and tried to remember what life with him was like. But Richie was now realizing that that time was long gone. That no matter how much he hoped and begged, he life would never go back to how it was before. That he had loved Eddie Kaspbrak but Eddie Kaspbrak did not love him. That the love and adoration of six friends were not enough to keep the boy with them.

When Richie closed his eyes, he still saw Eddie laughing and Eddie walking with him and Eddie lying next to him during their sleepovers and Eddie just being beautiful. But when Richie opened his eyes, he knew that it was all just memories. He often wondered what Eddie was saying to him on the night in Beverly’s house but he realized he didn’t want to know. That it was probably something that would cause the final break in his heart that would leave him too far gone to ever be repaired.

It took several years but Richie eventually became content with leaving Eddie as a happy memory of someone who made him feel so much love and joy but was simply not meant to stay with him for reasons beyond him.  He would walk down the streets and see an ice cream parlor or a pharmacy or would see The Goonies playing on TV and his mind would no longer stray to him. The memories had been shoved so far back into his head that they didn’t bring him sadness anymore, but they also didn’t bring him joy. Richie Tozier had become numb.